Triple Threat
by Sunruner
Summary: Prussia is a responsible nation who just wants to spend some quality time with his boyfriend in the Alps, is that so much to ask? According to Germany, yes. Between the bad weather, the bad attitudes, and three unexpected guests, no one's going to get the vacation they expected. Prumano. Sequel to Black Cherry. A big bag of fluff with a cover by Miq!
1. Berlitz

**Mr. Hurricane, I'm Wide Awake, Lullaby, Good Life.**

**I'M BAAAAACK. Continuation/Sequel/Whatever to my Prumano "Black Cherry". **

**CAN'T RESIST THE HAPPY!MANO. NO I CANNOT.**

* * *

_**Triple Threat**_

Berlitz

Lets just get something straight from the start, okay? Switzerland's little sister? Cutest. Thing. Ever. Prussia's not even ashamed to admit it, because it's true and there's no point trying to hide something as awesome as her unbearable cuteness. Prussia's little cousin is sweet and cute and precious and kind and-

_"For fuck's sake, if you called me just to talk about goat-guy's sister then I'm hanging up."_ Aww, don't be like that...

"If I say she's not as cute as you will you forgive me?" He grins the words into the phone and hears the grump on the other end drawl back without even waiting:

_"Hanging up now._" Woah! Woah! Not so fast!_ "I'm not gonna just lay here and listen to you croon for another hour."_ Oh, he's in bed, is he?

Phone sex?

Prussia redials the Rome number after he's dropped, laughing to himself all the while and satisfied when Lovino answers again at the first ring. He doesn't even sound annoyed when he breathes down into the reciever.

_"Are you done bullshitting?"_ Prussia never bullshits, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to talk dirty. For his boyfriend's peace of mind the platinum blonde just gets right to the good stuff:

"When was the last time you went skiing?" It takes a moment of silence for Lovino to actually hear his words, but there's the sound of him shuffling a little and Prussia can't help but let his mind wander to thoughts of his moody Italian boyfriend reclining alone under the blankets. He doesn't have to fret about the creepy naked-brothers-in-bed-together thing either, because North Italy is with West in Moscow for an Olympics Committee meeting for Russia. Prussia can entertain all the fantasies he wants before his three seconds of silence are up and Lovino reacts:

_"You mean, like, on snow?_" How else do you ski?_ "You know snow is cold, right?"_ Yeeessss, and?_ "Have you lost your fucking mind?"_

"Oh come on! She's got this adorable little place near her border with Switzerland and-"

"_EVERYTHING IN LICHTENSTEIN BORDERS ON SWITZERLAND_." Not the point- "_It's fucking **cold** up there! I barely even go climbing through my own mountains, why would I-?"_

"Because three fucking weeks burning the shit out of my back on your stupid farm." He's been waiting months for the right time to play that card, and this is a fucking excellent time to do so. "So you're gonna return the favour and spend a week with me freezing your little Italian ass off in the Alps." Which, if Prussia's got this right, will probably result in a lot of Lovino being a bitch and refusing to get out of the warm bed, which works out just fine in his book because Prussia's quite fond of his naked Italian trying to sponge body heat off him.

They missed their chance in New York last month after America crashed their "boring" date in one of his restaurants, and West had Prussia running errands for pretty much the _entire _Berlin summit before that. Spending a week in the isolated mountains between Switzerland and Austria is _exactly_ what they both deserve.

_"Believe me, it's not going to be my ass hurting after this."_

"Don't worry, babe, I'll be gentle." Lovino's response can't be reproduced in print, but the phone call ends with a very sullen Italian demanding he verify what kind of accommodation Lichtenstien is giving them, and a happy Prussian telling his boyfriend not to pack too many clothes.

Lichtenstien really is the cutest and most obnoxiously adorable thing though, she's utterly disarming. When Prussia calls his little cousin the next day to say that yes, he is totally 100% going to enjoy that private 1880s chalet before it's demolished for a new resort development, he has absolutely no idea how much shit he's getting himself into.

The problem is that West is in Moscow.

I repeat: West is in Moscow.

Prussia's fucked as soon as he realizes that West's left him a message stating he's going to be in Moscow for a few days longer than expected. West isn't going to be back in Berlin until at least three days after Prussia wants to be in the Alps with his boyfriend.

Lovino is going to kill him, because Prussia's neighbours are dicks who don't want to be saddled with the responsibility of feeding and walking Berlitz, Blackie and Aster while both brothers are away. Now, given the fact that West's dogs are more than just normal dogs, much like the cute little chick that's been in Prussia's care for the last two hundred years or so, he could probably leave them and have the animals be just fine.

But he's not worried about the animals. He's worried about the house. Three immortal dogs left alone in a house is a very _bad_ idea. Prussia would know: he's made that mistake before.

So he calls West and tries to work something out.

"Oh. In that case why don't you just take them with you?" What? No, West wait- "The mountain air will be good for them. Just don't forget to feed-" NO NO NO NO NO NO WEST WHY.

His little brother gives him permission to put the extra charges for the animals on his credit card. Prussia puts the transit fees, plus his plane ticket, _plus Lovino's ticket__and their rental car_ all on the card and goes to find the dog carriers.

He also starts practicing how he's going to explain this to his boyfriend. Maybe Lovino just _thinks_ he doesn't like dogs?

Two days later it's all taken care of just the way West wants, which isn't how Prussia wants, but he's out of options because everyone else he might have dumped the animals on is happily freezing to death in Moscow. Even cute little Lichtenstien is in Moscow, and the keys to the chalet are waiting for him at the end of his flight at the same desk where he picks up the registration information for the rental car.

Well, he says car but he means SUV, because SUVs are more fun than cars. Besides, on snowy mountain roads Prussia would just rather not mess with puttering dinky things that can't take a little excitement.

Lovino doesn't putter and he isn't dinky, but when Prussia sees him after loitering around the airport for an hour waiting for his flight to land, his boyfriend is definitely not up for the excitement of a winter holiday.

He followed his advice: Lovino didn't pack a huge suitcase full of clothes. He steps out of the crowd in arrivals and he's wearing fucking _all_ of them.

"No."

"Shut your mouth, it's cold."

"There is... absolutely no way. No." He looks ridiculous, why doesn't his boyfriend own a proper winter jacket? He's got fall jackets and spring jackets and he knows how to dress himself just fine for world meetings and stuff. Prussia knows his boyfriend knows how to look damn good. But he obviously has no idea how to dress himself for winter, because no.

He's wearing three coats. Prussia can see two different scarves, those look like ear-muffs, and- no, why isn't he wearing boots? It's been snowing in Berlin for the last two days, why are they in Switzerland and his boyfriend isn't wearing winter boots?

Bad Lovi, bad.

"You're going to freeze to death." They're still in the city, they're not leaving until his boyfriend is properly attired. Prussia's organized when he wants to be, logical when it suits him- where does everyone think West got it from? -but appearances are way too important to dismiss.

"Says the moron who wore a sweater and work-boots in fucking August!" And as they walk from the terminal to the rental lot to pick up their vehicle, his boyfriend looks like an idiot.

"Is that ours?" Yeah, it's a silver SUV, German-made because fuck-yeah and- why isn't Lovino walking? "You're shitting me." Uh oh…

Lovino's got a good glare. No, Lovino's got the _best_ glare. Austria's pretty good at it and Hungary doesn't have to glare to send a spark of fear down Prussia's back, but Lovino has the very best _'I hate you so much you are never hearing the end of this'_ glare. Prussia kind of wants to clap his hands in admiration, but he's ever-so-slightly cautious of the fact that his boyfriend will flip his shit and cancel their vacation.

Actually that's an exaggeration. Lovino can be dramatic but Prussia's never seen him actually do something to hurt someone for a stupid reason. He has, however, heard plenty of second-hand accounts of his ability to piss and whine about something for days on end.

Three happy dogs wagging their tails and panting merrily in the back of the SUV seem like a worthy challenge.

"It's fine."

"It is not fine."

"They're tame."

"They're _dogs." _Prussia is going to kill West, but first he's going to dress his boyfriend.

"We're going shopping."

"I'm going to kill you." Prussia drives. He's hosting this time and Lovino's not controlling any vehicle that has three mutts trying desperately to jump on and sniff the Italian who must smell like the other Italian they already know. They don't even get out of the parking lot before Prussia has to get out and stuff the animals back in their carriers. Blackie, the Shepherd, and Aster, the Retriever, are fine. It's the Doberman who won't calm down and stop trying to snuff the back of Lovino's head.

Prussia's the only one who's allowed to tongue that neck thank-you-very-much, Berlitz.

"Who told you this would be a good idea!" Please stop. "Three damn mutts all week? Why didn't you say something! We could have done this next week for fuck's sake what's the god damn rush!" Lovi _please?_

Prussia gives him until they reach a stop-light to keep talking. It's right as the amber eye turns red that Prussia reaches across the space between him and his boyfriend and grabs him by one of the four popped collars circling his neck. They aren't the kissy-cuddly-touchy-feely type of couple, but if Lovino didn't want to kiss him then he wouldn't take that breath and twist just enough in his seat to make it work this well.

Shit, his boyfriend actually _is_ cold under all those layers. Prussia can feel it just in the time it takes for the driver behind them to lean on his horn so they'll stop idling at a green light.

The drive is a lot calmer after that, because Prussia can't stop grinning and Lovino's trying to hide it but he knows that smug look is a good thing. It'd be nicer if Berlitz wouldn't whine like that, but the lithe black dog in the kennel doesn't get kisses when there's an Italian in the passenger seat.

"No Americans in Switzerland…" Lovino murmurs after a few more turns and the confusion of several round-abouts that don't seem to know where downtown is. The way he says it in that low, satisfied tone means he's just as happy to see him as Prussia is about kissing him again.

"No little brothers either." So no errand-running, no report-writing, no blame-games or _"Romano whyyyyy?_"s. Just Prussia and his boyfriend and the cold alpine air-

"Heeeeee-heheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…"

"Berlitz stop!"

And three big dogs.

* * *

**I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS SO MUCH YOU DON'T KNOW.**

**But I don't know how long or what updates. Those of you who read Black Cherry had a treat where I kept that speed up for 8 straight days. I just needed RomCom, and it was just going to be smut but then dogs.**

**Oh my God Tumblr thinks I'm nuts.**


	2. Gilbert

**Mr. Hurricane, Chaiyya Chaiyya, Iko Iko Mama, I'm Wide Awake.**

**REPOST! I didn't like that ending, I added s'more content to it. **

**There's still no plot and I'm still not sorry nope. **

**RATING GO **_**BOOM!**_

* * *

_**Triple Threat!**_

Gilbert

They really aren't the kind to meet up and make with the hugs and kisses and hand-holding. Lovino doesn't slip a hand into Prussia's back pocket as they leave the car with their bags (and those dogs) behind, the two of them hitting the salted pavement on foot. Prussia doesn't try it because it's awkward walking like that and Lovino's wearing _eighty fucking layers what's the point._ They walk close though, window-shopping for the most part because neither one of them knows this city well enough to pick a direction, and Prussia's really not in a rush.

He was in a rush to get the dogs in order and out of the house and on the plane and then pick the dogs _up_ again and all that stuff. He's sick of there always being someone or something around to get in the way whenever he thinks there's a chance to slide up close to South Italy. Prussia doesn't crave moonlit walks or romantic dinners, he's just pissed that West always has actual important shit for him to do when the Italy brothers are visiting, and that America doesn't understand the phrase "go the fuck away" in English, Italian or German.

So there's no rush now, and it's not like Lovino needs more than a few items from the department store they swoop into. It's an excellent opportunity to poke holes in his ego when Lovino's got a couple winter jackets to choose from and Prussia has the pleasure of _'helping'_ him with the extra layers he piled on to keep warm from Rome. For example: is that a silk scarf?

"S-Shut up, I don't have any wool ones." The other one is cashmere, isn't it? "I told you I hate the cold." He winters in Rome every year, do they just not sell proper jackets in Italy? "I can do it myself, Gil." That doesn't stop Prussia from helping with those stylish buttons, or letting his fingertips graze his boyfriend's shoulders and arms as he helps him shrug off the layers.

He's got on three fitted jackets that don't fit over one another, one brown, one olive, and one a stylish red. The long sleeve black shirt Lovino's left with makes him look a bit leaner than he actually is, but the illusion is pleasing. Those leather shoes are completely wrong for the snowy weather and- just how many pairs of pants is he wearing?

"Wait, what?"

Oh, he said that out-loud. Prussia just catches his tongue between his teeth for a moment, aware that his eyes are stuck below Lovino's belt where his boyfriend is standing there looking at coats. Lovino dresses well. He gets into a pissing match every season with his brother about whether Naples or Milan will host the better fashion lines, so when he's not living like a dog on his farm he dresses sharply. Prussia doesn't care as much, but he's used to dressing well after centuries of military life, and there's no way he's gonna show his face looking like a slob or a starving hippie.

As Nations and People they both care about how they look, and Lovino's standing there with his hands on his hips in front of a display of men's ware taking way too long to make a decision. But, since he hates winter, and hates the cold, and hates non-Italian anything, they're probably not gonna be here for too much longer.

So, why does his ass look so funny?

"Your ass looks weird." Lovino chokes and turns on him, mouth gaping because he's the epitome of calm under pressure. Prussia will be honest, with him twisted like that his backside is in profile, and it doesn't look any better than it did before. "Are you wearing two pairs?"

His boyfriend isn't like Spain- that guy can put on a garbage bag and still show off what he's got, but with strong legs in straight pants Lovino's better than this. Prussia isn't being critical either, he can feel himself grinning as Lovino refuses to answer him. His boyfriend snatches a long white coat with a fleecy tan lining off the rack, throws it on and struts stiffly over to the mirror. It looks ever so slightly like Canada's parka.

"This looks fine, no one's gonna see me up there except you anyways."

"It certainly covers your ass." Lovino's blushing as he turns on him with a hiss:

"Will you stop it we're in _public._" Not gonna stop him from eyeing that sexy Italian bottom, butt, tush, ass, backside, _hintern_- "_GILBERTSTOP."_

Prussia's already carrying his boyfriend's discarded clothes around, not because Lovino's making him do it, it just works out that way as they scurry around the store. Prussia's having more fun with this than he should, it's completely unfair of him but he just can't stop. When South Italy grudgingly tries on a striped white and brown scarf to see if he can tolerate the itchiness, Prussia's there to tug it down a little with the pretense of fishing the tag out, and places his lips against the warm skin on the back of his neck as a surprise. Lovino's near-squeak is worth the offended look another shopper gives them, because Lovino's hilarious in public and the stomp on Prussia's foot doesn't change the fact that he leaned back into the brief caress.

"You're going to regret it if you don't fucking stop." Lovino snarls ten minutes later. The two of them are now sharing a small bench in the shoe section, back-to-back with Prussia still happily carrying the clothes and chipping away at his boyfriend's finite patience. Lovino's lacing up a pair of boring black winter boots that will do more for his feet than the fashionable leather shoes he brought with him, knotting them with homicidal force. "How far is this stupid chalet anyways?"

"Closer to civilization than your house is." Prussia hasn't been there in a long time, but he remembers the general route. Lichtenstien was also sweet and precious enough to include a map and a little welcome card with the keys before sending them. "We can get food and rent skis when we get to the town nearby."

"I am not skiing." Because he doesn't know how. "No, shut up! I've done it before and I just don't like it." Lovino stands up before Prussia can needle him again, or better yet, get an arm around his waist and fry his nerves a bit more. He stomps around a little bit to test the boots, obviously hates them, and before Prussia can process it Lovino brings his foot up against the bench right at his crotch.

Prussia very nearly backs himself off the other side of the short platform, startled and frustrated that he showed it with such a jump, but Lovino's not actually trying to stomp on him. Just the way he keeps his foot there, leaning with one arm over his knee and glaring down… Well, it's not the kind of hot Prussia thinks of first, but a little bit of danger is okay and Lovino's not angry enough to hurt him.

"If you want to go floundering around out in the snow, then fine." In fact, judging by that look he'd say Lovino isn't angry at all. "But I'm the one you're going to come crawling back to." Crawling, huh?

"I dunno, you sure you won't be the one whimpering by the door waiting for me to come back?"

"Says the guy who happily packed dog leashes and collars for this trip." Prussia likes a lot of things about South Italy, but one of the things he _loves _about Lovino is this tension right here. Even if you take out the fact that they're lovers, the arguments and debates where they just start one-upping the other are addictive. Lovino's even better when he drinks because it blunts his temper, and ever since this relationship moved from buddies to boyfriends Prussia's happily noticed that Lovino's inhibitions have loosened up on a more permanent basis around him.

"Well I already know taking you by the scruff helps calm you down." Whispered though it is, not even Spain gets dirty flirting in public. And this is definitely flirting, because Lovino doesn't get that dark look in his green eyes when he's mad, not any more than he licks his lips and does a quick check over Prussia's shoulder for something. He doesn't know what's got his attention, but they've got what they need and can probably check out now.

"Hey." Yeah? They should get out of here, Prussia still isn't feeling rushed for time but somewhere private would be ni- "The fitting room attendant just went on her break." So-? Wait. Wait no, he gets it, and Prussia lets his eyes ask the question he's not willing to voice. "Weren't you asking something about pants earlier?" Yes, yes, oh hell yes!

Lovino grins and walks away from him, leaving Prussia to collect himself and their burdens before taking off after him across the store. The Italian goes first with all the grace and airs of an outrageously cocky shit, slipping past the empty desk and around a small corner designated for male patrons, and Prussia can't control his fucking stupid grin as he follows. The walls are blindingly white and there's one big mirror on the wall across from the row of doors, but it's a cheap, mass-produced environment with flimsy walls and doors that end with a foot of space between them and the floor.

"Vash is gonna kill us." Lovino's voice leads Prussia right to the stall he wants, one near the back and far away from any other pairs of feet or oblivious Swiss voices.

"He's in Moscow." Prussia answers, pleased that not even Switzerland can make a shot from Russia's capital to a random department store along his eastern border. But, just to be on the safe side, he raps twice on the door and, in simple German, says: "I brought your shoes. How are those pants fitting?"

The latch clicks and Lovino's hand reaches out to drag him inside. He wishes it was dark but that's what closing your eyes is for, and all either of them listens for is the snap of the door locking shut before everything turns to a blur.

Lovino's not cold anymore, at least not his lips and mouth as they catch each other in a lip-lock that puts the kiss in the car to shame. His boyfriend's got both hands on the front of his coat, pulling him along by that grip until he gives Prussia a rough, controlling shove to run his back against the flimsy wall. The force is good, it's possessive. It's a sharp bolt down Prussia's spine that jerks his hands into action so he's grasping Lovino's head, changing the angel of the kiss for something deeper, something more.

God don't groan, don't gasp, it's a secret and they don't want to get caught here: getting caught means having to stop. It's so fucking hard not to laugh as Lovino knocks both his purchases and the extra clothes out of Prussia's arms, letting them hit the floor before his hands work on his jacket, looking for skin. Prussia's only a beat behind him, reaching under that new white coat and taking two handfuls of that black shirt to pull it out where it's tucked into those odd-fitting pants.

The controlling kiss ends with a brief _"Fuck, I've missed you", _and with the stupid grin his boyfriend flashes for him Prussia knows that fuck is the word for it right now. His grumpy Italian isn't playing around, and when Lovino's fingers quickly invade his pants through the now open fly, Prussia holds his breath so he won't make any stupid noises. At least that's the idea, because it's surprisingly hard to return the favour when getting past one zipper leaves Prussia's hands foiled by a second one. And beyond that?

"_Three?"_ He pretty much gasps the word, which lessens the impact of the tease. It doesn't help that Lovino _really_ doesn't mess around, and Prussia bites the inside of his cheek when his boyfriend gets him with another kiss against the wall and skilled hands that aren't happy just palming him through his clothes. Fuck, he's _smiling_, smiling isn't good when they're short on time and privacy, and Lovino squeezes up and down him in a way that emphasizes speed.

Rough is good, noise is bad, and it's hard to enjoy one without making the other. Prussia's gonna make it up to his boyfriend later, but right now he has to focus on exactly two things: keeping his body braced against the wall so he doesn't drop to the floor, and breathing as evenly as he can without gasping, panting, hissing, moaning, gro-_aah…_

"Problem, Gil?" Warm hand jerking him off, boyfriend sucking on his neck, distractions really-_y-eeah..!_ "I figure this time we need a system, so I'll handle cooking again-" No, no talking chores now, no chores, he can't-can't-caaan't- "And you can walk and feed and handle those _things-" HishandJesusChristwheredidhe learnTHAT? _"-your brother sent, and by the end of the week-" _Hnng…_

Lovino keeps talking and Prussia just keeps his eyes closed, struggling not to gasp or groan as his heart hammers in his chest and he can feel sweat starting to mist on his forehead. Lovino can kiss and taunt at the same time, it's overwhelming, and the way his voice sounds so damn _casual_ while he's got one hand under Gilbert's shirt doesn't help. He just pinches and rubs along his chest, his other hand other squeezing and running tightly up and down over him. He's got to clench his teeth and bend his knees just to try and stay upright. The need to breathe is burning in his lungs, but if they get caught and this has to stop then he-

Don't switch to Italian damn it don't _don't don't he can't-_

Prussia doesn't hear the rest of it, he doesn't care, he just groans once and feels that overwhelming heat come out of him as the world kind of shifts and he realizes he's sitting on the floor. His world is spinning, and man it's not slowing down, but as much as he wants to grab those legs in front of him and pull those hips down to his level, now just won't work.

But as he thinks about it, Prussia's vaguely aware of Lovino making some sly comment in Italian. He's not sure what it is exactly, but it's gotta be the most conceited sound. His boyfriend's silk scarf somehow caught the mess, or most of it, and over the ringing in his ears Prussia catches the sound of two zippers sliding shut before that Italian tease is kneeling in front of him on the mess of dropped jackets and scarves.

He's still _smiling._

"Missed you too, Gil." That's a sweet kiss he gets as Lovino's fingers politely lift the waistband on his shorts up and tuck him back inside. Prussia reaches for him but it's a damned wasted effort, and even when his eyes catch sight of that elusive curl coming out the side of his head, Lovino just tilts his head as if to say _'nope, not for you'_.

Not fucking fair. Especially not if he keeps smiling like that, damn it.

"I'm gonna go pay for these things." Another kiss, chaste, mean. "See you back at the front entrance?" _No_…

Just to like, get something straight here: Prussia's no short-fused loser. Oh no, no no: Gilbert-Fucking-Beilschmidt is not a weak-willed nancy-boy who can't hold on for thirty seconds before blowing his load. He's just… used… to him coming on that fast is all. And y'know not breathing is pretty fucking demanding! But his boyfriend even goes so far as to do his fly and button up before tossing that stylish red jacket over his head with a smirk, like some weird inverted version of throwing in the towel. Prussia's world has calmed down again, he's almost ready to get up and start grabbing shit off the floor, but he's stopped by the scent of cologne and fresh herbs ingrained in his boyfriend's clothes. He wasn't allowed to breathe…

So for a few minutes Prussia just relishes the fact that he can fill his lungs again, and he slowly starts grinning stupidly, and he just plain feels better about feeling so good.

Never underestimate a lover who works with his hands all day. Never tease a Vargas after you've spent two months just waiting to get near him again. Prussia's still floating when he hears his boyfriend intercept a store worker on her way to check on what the _hell_ is happening in Stall 9, and he just grins and grins and _grins…_

"_Bella, Bella, don't fuss._" Wait, doesn't bella mean-?_ "My German friend is just a bit drunk, he's all flushed and acting like a fool, you know the type…"_ Friend? Who the hell does he think-! "_Where do I take these? Ah, grazie, yes if you could show me, Signorina then I'm sure we could-"_

"_I can still hear you, you flirty little shit!" _

Italians! Jeeze!

* * *

**It was too much fun not to write them in a changing room stall, but I'll be honest I felt too much second-hand humiliation to let them get caught in the act. Next chapter soon I hope!**

**Review!**


	3. Blackie

**Anything but Ordinary, Wide Awake, Lullaby, It's True, Things I'll Never Say, I'm With You.**

**Backstreet booooooooys! Why not?**

**Super-special thanks to Miquel Romani aka Caroselloveneziano for my pretty pretty story cover. It is gorgeous and I love it.**

* * *

_**Triple Threat!**_

Blackie

"I can't believe you, flirting when you've got _me!_"

"You're just jealous I got her number without speaking any German." That sing-song voice, Prussia can't wait to hear it screaming his name.

And no, no jealousy is not what this is about, that's not what he's feeling. Jealous? Him? No way! He's not jealous about his boyfriend taking him for a ride in a public change room and then casually walking off and _picking up some Swiss hottie._ No. Fuck that, Gilbert Beilschmidt does not get _jealous._

"You are _so_ jealous! Look at you!" No shut up go sit with the dogs Blackie's better company. "Are you _five?_ Here, watch." Gilbert takes his eyes off the road for long enough to see the receipt from the department store, and with the hum of the power windows and the flick of a wrist, the receipt and _fräulein _Julchen's phone number go flying off into the alpine air. Hmph.

"Fine."

"Oh come on." No. "Would seriously have preferred she walk in and find you love-drunk like that on the floor?" Not the problem. "Then what _is_ your problem?"_ Nevermind._

"It's stupid, forget about it." He's bullshitting both of them, but it actually is pretty damn petty when he lets himself think about it. So, instead of thinking about it, Prussia pulls them off the highway as their exit comes up, and about ten minutes later they're creeping through a sleepy village across the invisible line in Lichtenstein's territory. Prussia knows Lovino's still watching him out the corner of his eye, but the blonde focuses on not spoiling the mood as they peter through his cousin's winter-locked hamlet.

"Am I still cooking tonight?" He offered to, didn't he? They're standing outside the car near the local market when Lovino asks the question. "Any preferences, or do you just want whatever looks good?" Prussia's about to dismiss the question with a "whatever" when he thinks better of it.

"Potatoes," he says, and he grins at the disgusted look Lovino gives him. "Get the basics too, I don't think there's anything there except beds and a fireplace."

"It's got a kitchen, right?" Well yeah, he doesn't see why it wouldn't. "What're you gonna do while I'm in there?"

"You wanna walk the dogs with me?" Okay, nevermind the potatoes: _that_ is a disgusted look. "If I get back here before you do I'll send them in as a search party. Sound good?" If the deeply offended look on his boyfriend's face is any indication then no, not good, by no means good, not at all in any way good. It gets him scurrying off with a few muttered curses, and Prussia sticks his tongue out after him just as the first few flakes of snow start drifting down from the sky.

If he had to pick a colour for today, Prussia would have to call it blue. It's not a sad colour, it's just cool and crystalline like the icicles hanging from the building eves around him. There are sleeping planters resting on locked window sills, sign posts leaning slightly with their steel bodies reflecting the grey of the sky. The blue of the rising and falling Alps dominates the northern horizon, and the silver-blue snowfall adds movement without wind. There's slush tucked between buildings and along the edge of the small parking lot where the SUV is sitting, but the sidewalks are salted and tended properly. So the day is blue, because it's the colour in the window panes and reflecting off the sleek body of the vehicle as Prussia fiddles with the keys.

West's dogs are actually pretty easy to take care of. One obvious reason: they're not normal dogs, duh. He gave them a run around the parking lot while waiting for Lovino's flight to land after their own trip down from Berlin, but locking normal dogs up in kennels for the hour or so they were out shopping would have been beyond cruel. Thankfully Blackie, Berlitz and Aster were sleeping before they left and still enjoying their naps when they got back.

If West was in some kind of life-threatening danger in Moscow, things would be different. They'd be going fucking ballistic: howling, barking, biting, snarling, the whole she-bang. They're his familiars, his pets, not Prussia's. Prussia takes care of them sometimes and they like him just fine, but he's not their Alpha dog.

The first thing the Shepherd does with her freedom is jump out of the SUV's hatch-back and snuff at the cold ground at Prussia's feet, Blackie's long charcoal grey ears swivel around on her head, listening to the sound of a few cars and sleepy local conversations. She wanders back and forth a little on tan paws to check around the sides of the vehicle, obviously searching for West, and when she doesn't see him anywhere she decides Prussia's good enough for her peace of mind. She doesn't sit down as he goes for Berlitz's cage though, shuffling her back legs constantly and continually looking around, whimpering again and obviously wondering about one of two possibilities: West and play.

German Shepherds like to run, she's gonna be so disappointed if he pulls out the leash.

But next Berlitz gets his freedom, the Doberman stretching his lean black body and giving a cold shiver and shake when his paws hit the wet pavement. Blackie immediately yips and gives him a good sniff, the two walking around one another, tails wagging, the Shepherd obviously beginning to beg, in her way, to go running and chasing and playing in the winter sunlight. Berlitz would rather stick by Prussia though, looking up at him several times as if to ask when he's going to get a pat on the head or if Prussia's gonna offer him a belly rub. He's a suck-up, plain and simple.

Aster is the Golden Retriever, and he almost doesn't wake up when Prussia gets the kennel door open. He looks up with his big brown eyes when he hears the other two yipping to one another, but when he climbs down with his shaggy golden coat, he seems more interested in just sitting down and leaning his head on Prussia's leg. He's the oldest of the three, an old dog even when West was found with him after France's near collapse in the nineteenth century.

If Prussia's got any chance of winning his boyfriend over on the animals, his best bet is to start with the sleepy retriever.

"Let's go!" Leashes are optional a lot of the time with these three. West almost always leashes them, but that's just because he's a stickler for his own rules and not because his dogs actually need restraints. If Prussia's completely honest with himself, then it makes perfect sense why his brother is so fussy about making sure the animals are never left completely alone for very long: other nations can be fickle, but a dog's loyalty lasts a lifetime, sometimes more.

They walk quickly because Prussia likes a good, hard pace; leisurely strolls are boring because what's the point? They go up one hill and cut between a few buildings to find another road, Blackie sprinting ahead, wheeling around to chase her tail, then racing back to jump at Berlitz and take off again in the lead. The Doberman moves a lot like West, and if he had to compare then Blackie would be North Italy: one runs ahead, the other keeps a steady pace just a bit ahead of Prussia. The Doberman is more cautious, stopping whenever he hears a sound he doesn't know, looking back to make sure Prussia and Aster are keeping up, and always alert to any distressing whimpers from the excitable Shepherd.

And Aster keeps pace with Prussia, hovering right next to him if not a bit further back. With the falling snow it's very quiet as they walk, so if Prussia stops for a few minutes to give Berlitz the needy attention he wants for being good, then he can turn and find Aster sitting or laying down behind him. At the same time too though, if he has to jog a few paces to keep Blackie from chasing crows in a parking lot then the Retriever is always there, minding his own business and watching the two younger dogs get into trouble.

They make it back to the little store where their car is parked before Lovino's done getting groceries, but instead of making good on his promise to track him down with three big dogs, Prussia eyes an empty lot right next to the low building and takes the dogs there instead. Aster nests in the snow at his feet, Berlitz's tail starts going as he senses a game, and Blackie nearly loses her shit when Prussia picks up a handful of snow and turns it into a ball.

After he hucks it across the lot Prussia can practically hear her screaming: "HOLY SHIT GUYS HE MADE A BALL HE DID IT IT'S A BALL HE THREW IT OVER HERE WHERE DID IT GO?". The only creature Prussia's convinced thinks he's more awesome than he actually is would be West's puppy, because Blackie is thoroughly stumped by the lack of ball in the snow-drift she plows through looking for the one he threw. Berlitz is a bit faster on the uptake and grabs a mouthful of snow before running back to him, but that's just because he wants the scratch behind the ears Prussia gives him before forming another ball.

A couple snowballs later and Berlitz is content to start annoying Aster, the old dog slowly losing himself under the gentle snowfall. The drifting flakes have the Shepherd's attention too, so Blackie's stuck in a cycle of tail-chasing and snow-flake-eating. It's getting dark out, which kind of sucks since that means it'll be pretty late by the time they make it to the chalet, but-

Prussia's snapped out of his thoughts by a loud dog bark, but once Berlitz starts going Blackie comes to attention and yelps and growls too. The Doberman's bark is louder though, because he knows what he's yelling at and Prussia's quick to grab Berlitz's collar. The hold keeps him from sprinting across the snow and shadows to get at the man in a long white coat standing at the edge of the lot.

"_Hey!_" But there's no stopping the Shepherd, who recognizes but doesn't know who it is she goes charging towards, and Lovino's not good enough with dogs to know he should just _stand_ there and let her sniff and go wild around him. Instead his boyfriend gets his arms up and starts stumbling away, losing his footing on the wet ground and tumbling over with a hard smack.

"Blackie down! Heel!" Oh, but West has trained his dogs well. Although she whimpers and gives Prussia a sorry look asking why the toy fell over, the Shepherd sits and turns her big black eyes on the world, tail struggling not to wag and power away the snow at her rump. Prussia jogs up and has to let Berlitz's collar go before he gets there, but Lovino's sitting up and snarling at the animals to _'get the fuck away from me you mutt-faced bastard I could make a coat out of you!'_

"Of course she's got a mutt-face, she's a dog." Lovino just hisses at him on the ground. No words, just hiss. When Prussia offers him a hand the Italian takes it though, and just the way he stands there with his legs bowed at the knee and his spine kind of twisted tells the story: he just flopped into a puddle.

"Fucking _dogs._" Berlitz is having none of this negativity, and he plants both paws right on Lovino's side, panting and grinning as only a dog can hoping to get some affection. Instead he gets shoved down with an angry Latin curse, which he mistakes as a command to jump even higher! "Call this thing off, damn it!"

"D'you know his name?"

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT, GET IT OFF." Lovino swinging his arms and stomping in a circle just fries the last of Blackie's patience, and with an excited bark the Shepherd bounds to her feet and hops excitedly around the big angry toy. Lovino's curses and swears sound a lot like Feliciano's coos and encouragements to the dogs, and Prussia's just choking on laughter watching the scene get more and more out of control.

Stomping away across the snow does _not_ work on dogs, and when Lovino breaks into a run to get away-

"No! No don't do that-!" The hunt is on! Lovino's as fast as his brother when it comes to running on the retreat, but Blackie and Berlitz are on his heels and even Aster's got his snow-covered head up now. Prussia takes off after all three as Lovino gives a shout and Blackie gets his pantleg with her teeth. He hits the snow face-down this time and both dogs are immediately on him, yipping and jumping around without actually trying to sink their teeth into him.

Not that Lovino cares. He's smart enough to throw both arms up over his head and neck to protect himself just in case, screaming profanities into the snow.

Berlitz sees Prussia coming and abruptly sits, panting, in the snow next to Lovino's head, tail motoring back and forth waiting for his treat or a prize for catching the new person. Blackie is way more forward and actually sits on Lovino's _back_ like a conquered prize.

With a short whistle and a fast command to sit and stay, Prussia crouches down next to his defeated boyfriend and, graciously, gives him a poke in the side of the head. His hood flew up when he fell, so Prussia can't see his face for the fur ruff and his tense arms.

"Did you really think running was a good idea?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"They're attack dogs. You ran away."

"My ass is freezing and the bitch bit me, you're lucky I didn't kick it in the face."

The snow's still falling and it really is pretty damn cold out, but Prussia just uses both hands to shove his boyfriend over until he gets him onto his side. Lovino's response is to bring his arms down from protecting his head and fold them bitterly over his chest. It's getting harder to see, but he's pouting like a spoiled kid, as usual, and Prussia's torn between teasing him because it's cute or mocking him because it's stupid.

So he lays down next to him in the cold snow, because they've both got winter jackets, scarves and gloves on, and nothing calms Lovino better than someone creeping down to his level. This relationship has been going on since the summer, and the friendship reaches back further than that by a few years. By the time Prussia's laying in the snow next to Lovino his boyfriend's glare has melted away into something almost completely calm.

He's still the bigger bitch, but Prussia doesn't care. The snow reflects just enough light back that he can see his lover's face, and if it wasn't so fucking cold to lay here Prussia would be fine to just stay like this and look at him. Lovino moves first to brush a few snowflakes off his own cheek, but then he just curls his gloved hands back up in front of him.

"You're being sappy." He scolds, and Prussia just grins at the accusation. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really." That surprises him actually, normally he's always up for a meal, but despite how long today has been he'd rather sleep than eat. "What about you, wanna head out?"

"Fuck yes, but I don't feel like cooking anymore. I'll make breakfast." He's cold, that's his problem right now, and Prussia doesn't find that unreasonable. For all his complaining, Lovino's actually handling things pretty well; the wet coat, the falling snow, the fact that they're still a few miles from the chalet. "Don't fall asleep you moron, if I'm driving then we're leaving the mutts behind."

"God you're mean sometimes."

"I hate dogs, I hate the cold, I fail to see the problem." And Prussia can't help but wheeze out an old, tired laugh. This guy is impossible, he never changes, and Lovino half-reaches across the bit of snow between them before curling his hand up and glaring for no reason. When Prussia nags him to find out what the new problem is, Lovino huffs back with: "It's too cold."

"For what?"

"To take my glove off, idiot." Why does he wanna do that? "Because."

Instead of getting into a truly childish argument, Prussia just blinks when he feels fine leather touch his cheek. The covered pad of Lovino's thumb brushing his lips and the gesture is both intimate and strange at the same time.

"'s not the same with gloves on…" Lovino murmurs, and the falling snow tries to bury the words before Prussia can hear them.

"Now who's being sappy?" He almost doesn't say it, Prussia actually fights with himself about whether or not to tease right now. If they were at their private little cottage in bed then it would be a no-brainer: don't. But they're not curled up under warm blankets with just each other and the shadows. Right now they're two grown men slowly freezing their junk off in a snowy abandoned lot in a tiny Germanic town up in the mountains. They have to get up. They have to gather up the dogs and drive off to the chalet. They can't keep laying here getting lost in each other's eyes and the silver snow and blah blah blah diabetes.

It's just when Prussia convinces himself that fuck it, he wants to steal a kiss before they leave, a big heavy snout drops down on the snow right between them. An exhausted huff of canine breath leaves his boyfriend revolted and Prussia cursing Aster's big moping brown eyes, because although one of his legs is numb from the snow, a whimper from Berlitz and a heavy pawing from Blackie tell him the dogs are freezing their tails stiff.

"_Go the fuck away!_"

Bad Lovino: German dogs don't speak Italian.

* * *

**It got so sweeeet at the end! As usual I'm taking too long to get where I thought I'd be, but I'm having fun, are you?**

**See you soon with chapter 4!**


	4. Lovino

**Shattered, Heterohetalia's mind-blowing playlist on their Tumblr blog… (Rose, None Can Die, For the Love of a Princess, etc.)**

**So much more smut than the other story. My bad guys, my bad~**

* * *

_**Triple Threat!**_

Lovino

Prussia manages to get the kiss he wants right as they finish piling the dogs up into the SUV. They both understand just how badly they need to get to that wonderfully private cabin in the woods when neither one really moves away after that chaste peck. The next kiss is not a peck, and it's only when Blackie barks at them through the SUV's rear window that Prussia stops pressing his boyfriend flush against the cold hatchback.

"You brought..?"

"Yes."

"Good."

They don't speak after that, not for the whole ten minute drive out of town. It's only when Prussia swears because he can't read the signs through the snow and needs Lovino to navigate for them that they trade a few words.

He only swears because the silence is overwhelming and they're both too tired to take their minds off of what they want: sex. Screwing around in a department store was reckless and fun, but in hindsight too one-way and short to be satisfying. Gazing lovingly at each other in the snow was obnoxiously sweet and gushy-feeling, but that and a kiss just pushed things from '_let's do cute couple shit'_ to _'I'm going to fuck you so hard your other half will feel it'._

Lovino just keeps flexing his hands inside his gloves, or running his covered nails over the arm-rest built into his door. Prussia can't sit still in the driver's seat, and even after they're on the right side-road and very nearly there, he's at war with himself about driving faster to get their sooner, or driving slower to make sure they don't fucking die in the heavy powder.

If there weren't three dog carriers (and their occupants) in the back half of the SUV, Prussia knows what he'd be doing right now. It would make driving so much easier if the sound of his passenger _breathing normally_ wouldn't send shivers up and down his spine.

"Is that it?" Fucking _finally._

There's no light except the headlights, but the snow in the air and coating everything in sight reflects it back brilliantly. Lovino's got the cabin keys in hand before Prussia can keep track of them (or turn off the engine for that matter), and he slides out of his seat and into the snow without a word.

Prussia likes the way he thinks as he scurries up three wooden steps to what looks like the back-door of the chalet. They're parked next to a wood pile and a shed with the large black body of the cabin looming in the silent snow-fall. Prussia leaves the headlights on as he jumps out of the SUV and goes to get those damned dogs.

It's lighter to let the dogs out first, but faster to just lift the carriers one by one and trek them in through the narrow door.

"Where's the fucking light switch?"

"No idea." Prussia grunts, setting Aster's kennel down on the floor before hurrying back outside for the other two. Berlitz makes curious sounds behind the bars and Blackie whimpers in confusion as they come back into the dark, but Lovino still hasn't found a light switch: he's using his phone as a light.

It's a smart idea and Prussia mimicks him, pulling out his own touch-phone and thumbing through apps to find the otherwise useless flashlight he downloaded. The bright blue LED light guides him back outside to find his suitcase, which is actually just a big black dufflebag from the last Olympic games, and he hauls that inside with him. He isn't dragging it for the clothes, he's bringing it only because it contains that thing Lovino already asked about back in the parking lot.

"Vino?" The chalet is _still_ dark, one large den with only black shadows and silhouetted furniture creeping around everywhere, the air cold and misting in front of him as he knocks the door shut and calls out.

This place had better not be fucking haunted, and he starts opening the three kennels to let the dogs out just-in-fucking-case. Berlitz and Blackie both go off in different directions, noses to the floor and curious about every smell, but Aster just takes a slow look around the chilly house and marches dutifully towards the first not-dog noise.

A light flickers but it isn't an electric white, instead Prussia lets his boots clunk across chilly floorboards when he sees several orange flashes build slowly into a steady glow.

"A fireplace?" In a bedroom, with a bed, with blankets and pillows and _get the fuck out, Aster_. It's not really a fireplace like, with bricks and a mantel and shit, it's an old iron stove right out of the nineteenth century, and Lovino's crouched in front of it holding what might be a pack of matches, but Prussia doesn't care.

"-one fucking light-bulb in the entire house, goat-guy's sister pulled a fast one on you if this is the place you moron." Lovino's too close to the fire for Prussia to see his expression when he looks around at him, but the blonde's got one hand in the bag pocket, fetching something from the depths before letting the sack hit the floor.

They'll figure all that shit out tomorrow. Right now, it's cold.

His boyfriend stands up and Prussia tosses him the small plastic tube, his gloves already in his hands before he drops them on the bag. He has his jacket open by the time Lovino sets the bottle down on the night-table, and Prussia's gaze follows the line of the bed when he notices that the stale sheets have already been thrown back.

Good signs all around. He can feel Lovino's eyes on him as he pulls off the jacket and unwinds his scarf. His boyfriend's fingers slowly start flexing again like before, but he remains stock still, watching. Prussia _will_ pull his clothes off if Lovino doesn't start dealing with his own jacket and boots, but the fire casts just enough light over his face for him to catch sight of the crooked, hungry grin the Italian is trying not to flaunt.

"You just gonna stand there?" He asks, hiding his own smile by reaching up and pulling his sweater and shirt off in one go over his head. He looks up in time to catch Lovino licking his lip before shrugging a little.

"I'm not blocking the light. It's warm here by the fire."

"It'd be warmer with me in bed." When you put it that bluntly it doesn't even count as a god-damned flirt, and Prussia doesn't give a good god damn about it as he pulls off one boot and starts working on the other. If Lovino isn't half as horny as he is right now then Prussia will be amazed, because the simple fact that his boyfriend isn't spluttering like an idiot watching him undress is pretty much a fucking mating call.

His comment also slaps that grin off his face too. The shock leaves the Italian with that slightly dazed expression he only gets right before he decides to work Prussia into the mattress or do something with his body that will make Prussia's blood catch on fire. Either option works for him right now, he doesn't care, but he owes the bastard for that run around in the store and that fucking hottie with her mile long legs and flirty smile. If Prussia gets his pants off before Lovino's even unbuttoned that jacket, he can't guarantee it will still be in one piece once he's done.

"Then get in bed-" Whoops, there go his pants. _C'mere you- _"Wait wha-?" Took too long thinking there, buddy, it's the Mighty Prussia's turn now!

The room _is_ warmer thanks to that fire, but Prussia's bare feet have to deal with chilly wooden floors for the three strides it takes to back Lovino up right against the wall between the night-table and the stove. He clamps his hands around his boyfriend's arms just over the elbows, pushes him as far back as he'll go and takes that lippy Italian mouth for his own.

A surprised grunt from Lovino turns into a quick gasp through the nose and a delicious groan. His rigid body goes soft against the wall, and Prussia just commits to pinning his arms like that so they can't move. The tip of his nose is cold against Prussia's cheek, but what surprises him is the way the rough body of his tongue isn't the right temperature when it grazes his lower lip and laps hungrily against his teeth. He opens his eyes and Lovino's are closed in bliss, which is a good thing, but he's _cold._

Prussia breaks the kiss and rubs his cheek against his lover's, searching for his jaw and taking note of the chilled feeling that won't go away. Lovino just tilts his head with a sigh, making it easier for him to get his lips down the gap between that striped scarf and the warm-but-not-warm-enough skin down his throat. He steps up to bring their bodies flush, expecting the instant chill of the jacket's surface before it quickly heats up against his skin. Lovino shifts slightly with a subtle grunt this time, rising onto his toes briefly so his hips can buck forward and somehow, through the mess of layers he's wearing, find Prussia's to push and rub against soundly. It feels even better for him since he's only dealing with the thin cotton of his shorts, but his lover's feeling it badly if he's gulping and making those low, pleasurable gasps already. He can feel Lovino's heartbeat through the pulse-point on his neck, and Prussia concentrates just below that with his lips and tongue, reminding himself that they've got a week to let the love marks fade and heal.

"You're going slow," Lovino groans, panting softly but still clammy as he shivers once. "Shit, Gil, it's been two months-"

"You feelin' alright?" Another shiver runs through him, and Prussia actually can't tell if it's because of him or the snow outside. He lets his hold slide down Lovino's arms until their hands meet and fingers weave together, and the blonde jumps at the ice cold temperature of his hands. Lovino has _warm_ hands, damn it! "Vino?" He brings their arms up until his boyfriend's wrists are pinned up over his shoulders against the wall, speaking into the scarf at his throat to muffle the words.

"Don't fucking stop, damn it…!" That's a pathetic whine, and Prussia straightens up so he can press their faces together. It's not a kiss: the bridges of their noses touch, clammy forehead to warm one, his cold nose pressed to Prussia's cheekbone, lips resting at opposite corners. "I'm cold, douchebag, now do something about it."

"Your fingers feel like ice, are you sure you're okay?" Lovino gives him such a mean glare, but Prussia doesn't find it funny right now and kisses his lips again, trying to keep him calm. "Fine, stupid question."

He'll fix it then, and Prussia lets his boyfriend's hands go so his arms are free to wrap around him. They kiss again and this time Lovino rises up and hooks his arms over Gilbert's shoulders, gaining just the inch or so of height he needs for their lips to stay together. It's nice having a lover who's the same height; it means no breaking your neck trying to woo them.

The jacket is still wet, Prussia finds this mildly insulting because Lovino didn't say anything about turning up the heat in the car on their way here. He gives his lover a firm squeeze around his torso and then slips his hands back around in front, fighting with the buttons and zipper while his boyfriend does those things with his lips and tongue that make it difficult to focus on anything else. His cold hands slip through Prussia's hair, tightening almost painfully when he retaliates by invading the fur-lined interior of the coat and gives a full two-handed squeeze on that cloth-smothered ass.

Shit, his pants are damp too.

"Why're you-?"

"Shut up- _shut up_.Gil _just shut up." _Lovino reinforces the command by bucking his hips up again, momentarily letting go of him too so he can shrug off the heavy coat and let it settle on the floor. It's Prussia's turn to gasp a little this time, pressing back until his boyfriend's hips hit the cold wall again and they just push and grind into one another, eyes closed and just a bit of warmth returning to Lovino's skin as a fire starts burning down below to match the one crackling away in the iron stove. The brunette's hands are still cold on Prussia's arms, but the breaths that hit his bare chest are hot and desperate.

One, two, three pairs of pants and the underwear he's got on all give way to Prussia's greedy grasp. As much as the cold is getting to his bare back and legs, he still takes so much pleasure in undressing his lover. They move until Lovino's sitting on the bed, hissing at the sensation of cold sheets on his ass and the backs of his thighs, but Prussia just kneels to get those big ugly boots off him and enjoys everything about the view.

The only thing he wants to change about it is Lovino's half-hard state. He can keep his shirt on because he's worryingly clammy to the touch, but the panting breaths through his full lips are a joy to listen to and watch. His green eyes are so dark and hidden behind his hair that both look black in the firelight, the down-like brown hair that trails down from his navel to his crotch guiding Prussia's attention right to where he wants it.

Remember that quick fuck in the department store? Lovino breathes something that sounds a lot like _'you don't have to'_ but Prussia's already made up his mind to warm his lover up, and taking him in is a small sacrifice for that goal. He's so fucking chatty when he's the one giving out the pleasure, never shutting up when he takes any final scraps of coherency Prussia has left and obliterates them. But when he's on the receiving end?

Those cold fingers return to Prussia's head, trying to stroke back his hair and down his neck instead of pulling the white locks out by the roots. Lovino doesn't say anything but he isn't silent either: no voice, just panting and gasping, air hissing past his teeth as he bites his lips or, Prussia's sure, lets his tongue hang just past his lips so he won't say anything. Up and down they go, with Prussia's hands holding his lover's hips so he can control when he tries bucking up to get further inside. The shallow, impulsive thrusts come with a melody of strained breaths, something he can and hopes to hear all night.

When he lets his hands go further up under that black shirt though, Prussia's frustrated. His chest is cold, his sides are clammy, his lover's back arches when his hands get there because they're so much warmer than the rest of him. Is he just not doing this shit right? The hands coaxing him down say he is, the needy, desperate gasps tell him to keep going, and the tremors that rock the body curled around his head are all screaming the same thing: more. Prussia's hands find Lovino's already hardened nipples in the dark, and he pinches them both roughly between his thumb just to make sure it's fucking _arousal_ that makes him cry out and push himself as far down Prussia's throat as he can go.

Arousal, lust, ardor, love. Prussia doesn't give a fuck which of the four it ends up being, it's not allowed to be just because Lovino-fucking-Vargas is fucking _cold._

That kind of frustration is the reason why, even when his lover gasps his name and nudges his forehead as clear and ready warning, Prussia holds on and-

_-ack!_

Bad idea!

Shit that's just gross, and as much as Prussia would like to be that disturbing fuck who laps it up and grins like he just swallowed sweet cherry soda, he can't. It's not in him (actually most of it's in him), he doesn't gag or retch at the effect, but he can't stop himself from pulling back and coughing a few times, wiping off what he can with his wrist and fingers. Swallowing is mandatory because he doesn't have anything to wash his mouth out with, and he keeps his head down so Lovino won't, A: laugh and tease him for it, or B: get turned off and think something's wrong.

"You okay…?" He's fine, he just made a bad call. With Lovino's sluggish question though Prussia mans up and rises with his hands planted on either side of his lover's bare hips, not sure about giving him a kiss right away, but Lovino just cups his face and takes him nice and slow with his lips. Shit, he loves it when this guy is grateful.

"Take that thing off, it's wet." Fucking coat isn't worth shit, he was better off dressing up like Santa.

Shirt pulled off and abandoned, Prussia gets him to lay down properly on the bed and climbs in under the covers after him. There's no reason to be shy so he doesn't even hesitate before crawling right on top of his lover, who honestly looks too dazed to follow what's going on as the blankets are pulled over them both.

"What are you-?" Prussia keeps his hands moving, settled comfortably between his lover's legs, palms rubbing down his sides and back up to stroke his shoulders and parts of his chest. The air in the room is still cold, but it's warmer than before. Lovino's curious hands run along his back, green eyes coming back to life after his orgasm and watching him with obvious questions. And Prussia just kisses him, he forces him down into the mattress while his arms adjust so the too-thin blankets are completely covering them from the neck down. He contemplates how hard it would be in the dark to go hunting for _more_ blankets, and the answer is too hard and too fucking cold, so if he has to then he'll just pull something to wear out of his bag.

"We're not going to sleep until you're warm again, got it?" He growls, and he still hasn't stopped moving, because he won't.

"You're obsessive…" His lover sounds tired, but he's also pulling them closer together until they're nose-to-nose with Lovino's arms looped around Prussia's neck. "I thought you wanted to fuck me?" Oh, he does. He definitely wants to fuck him, but he didn't expect no working lights or central heating when they pulled into the drive tonight. As willing as Romano has been, a cold Italian isn't a happy Italian, and if he gets sick after sitting in those wet clothes for so long, Prussia will give himself a fit.

"We've got a whole week for that, remember?" His hand does another circuit of the nude body below him, and Lovino's eyes flutter shut when Prussia runs his fingers up to graze his throat and cheek, weaving them through that dark chestnut hair. Their lips brush warmly when Prussia finds that one stubborn curl that's hiding back around the side of his head after all the excitement, but the soft shudder and sigh from his partner is worth spending a few minutes searching.

"Your hands are still cold," Lovino just keeps relaxing and sinking further and further down, bringing Prussia with him as they trade a few kisses on cheeks and throats. He's already breathing slower and opening his eyes less, so Prussia nudges him with his nose. "What did I just say? Either warm the hell up or I'm not gonna let you sleep."

"_Fuck…_"

"Oh, we will."

Trust him, they will.

* * *

**I like naked cuddles shoosh.**

**Going slower with this fic than the previous one, but I'm also fighting with my big HetaOni story too. See you guys with 5 when I get it done!**

**Sorry for all the smut?**


	5. Aster

**Blow me One Last Kiss, Chaiyya Chaiyya, Never Say Never.**

**I might be getting a job in Japan! HAHAHA!**

**I also made progress on my other fic, hence the slow update here. :U**

**I think I slapped most of the typos out of it, hurrah!**

* * *

_**Triple Threat!**_

Aster

Prussia hasn't had to sleep without central heating for a very long time, especially not in the middle of a snowy mountain winter. It's so damn cold it doesn't surprise him that they wake up repeatedly throughout the night, especially once their fire goes out and they're left clinging to one another for any spare body heat. What else are they supposed to do? Get up in the pitch black of an unfamiliar and cold-as-fuck house to try and find firewood, which could be anywhere, and matches, which Lovino at one point admits he can't fucking remember where he dropped them? No.

But Prussia is the one who, at what must be getting on three in the morning, pries himself from his lover's shivering grasp and finds the strap on his bag. He should have brought Lovino's in too, shoulda coulda woulda, but he just fumbles with the stiff material looking for absolutely anything they can wear so they don't wake up without feet.

Lovino's so far past being grumpy or angry that he actually pulls Prussia down for a cold, shivering kiss after he gets his head and arms through a fleecy pullover. Prussia's pretty sure he's got his sweatpants on backwards, but he doesn't care as they burrow under the covers together and wait for the fucking sun to rise.

It teaches them a valuable lesson that they've otherwise forgotten over the years: always throw another log on the fire before even considering going down for the night. It's not something either of them should ever have forgotten, especially not Prussia because his winters have always been colder than South Italy's, but even Lovino gets cold-snaps. They're pathetic and they know it and Prussia tries to joke about it when his lover's cold hands tangle in his hair and they press cold noses into each other's necks for respite.

Six am hits and Prussia's eyes snap open again, but this time it's from habit and not the pain of freezing his ears off. For a minute he's not sure why he's awake considering the fact that they worked out a sleeping position that kinda-sorta works to keep them both warm, but the overwhelming scent of thick oregano and spicy grape vines gets its claws in his nose and tries to pull his eyes closed again. Lovino is sleeping on his chest with his covered arms wrapped around Prussia so as much of the thick cotton is touching his bare chest and shoulders to warm him. In exchange, Prussia's legs are completely tangled around his lover's bare hips and thighs, and then they're both properly cocooned in every inch of the blankets, leaving only their toes with too little protection from the winter.

Prussia rolls them clumsily onto their side and expects Lovino to either wake up or be already up, since he can only remember waking up before him maybe once or twice while on that summer retreat just outside of Naples. But his lover is apparently hard-wired to the sun and barely stirs as he's reoriented, and Prussia starts gingerly trying to untangle their limbs without messing with him too much.

Sunrise is probably anywhere from an hour to two away, but Prussia is determined to figure out what the hell he's dragged the two of them into. He's also hungry as hell after having no dinner last night, and he's very, very worried now about what the rest of the house is going to look like. Getting away from the blankets without bringing the cold air in immediate contact with both of them is a challenge that he fails, but Lovino doesn't get up after Prussia fusses with the covers and tucks them back down snug and tight around his hibernating lover.

Several freezing minutes later, Prussia's lacing up his boots with numb, shaking fingers. This is when his boyfriend sighs and sits up, draping one arm over Prussaia's shoulder and setting his face down against the side of his neck. He's barely awake, but with his other arm snaking around Prussia's middle, he's still opinionated:

"This place is hell…"

"I know, I'm sorry."

"What?" He's sorry, you know? Apologetic for a really shitty night? "Oh, I didn't think you'd give up that fast."

It's a little weird how docile he's being. Lovino gets a bit cuddly right after he wakes up, this is true, but it's never quite like this unless they've just slept off some really great sex. A kiss on the side of Prussia's neck hints at wake-up sex, but he's not willing to make that kind of dangerous mistake. Lovino's gooey mood will freeze as soon as the cold air touches his skin if they start something.

"Where're you going?" But man is it not tempting when Lovino groans those words right by Prussia's ear.

"To find that damn fuse box."

Lovino scoffs, but what's so funny about this?

"There was kindling all set to go in that stove last night." …What? "Whoever was here last knew we'd need the fire."

No. No, Lillie come on, that's not fair.

"You're shitting me." Sweet, docile, kind little Lillie? Really?

"Lay down, Gil." Shit, shit, shit, he could have seen a prank like this coming from Felicks, or even Roderich, but _Lillie? _

"Then I'm gonna go find firewood. And matches."

"Bring my suitcase."

"That too." Prussia finishes with his boots and twists on the bed, following the sound of shallow breaths and the angle of Lovino's nose to find his lips briefly in the dark. They're cold, so he kisses him again while Lovino's hand gently touches the back of his head.

But that's where it ends, because a very loud canine bark outside the bedroom door snaps them both apart. When three more- five, seven-_ Christ shut up!_

"Fucking _dogs_…"

"Get some sleep, I'll be back with breakfast."

"I thought I was cooking, you _asshole…"_ It's a weak, miserable insult, and as Lovino flops back down on the bed Prussia gets up and goes exploring.

The first thing he does is look for the matches though, his boyfriend trying to direct him blindly around the room, across the floor and along what surfaces he can find with his hands and the very faint pre-dawn glow from outside. It's not the kind of exploring Prussia would _prefer_ to do in a dark bedroom with Lovino's voice as his guide, and the cold bottle of lube he finds is just a crude reminder of that, but when a tiny paper box rattles under his fingers he jumps up with a shout.

"Found 'em!" And he strikes one, because there are a lot in the box, and if there are ready-to-go fires and matches to be found here, then there must be- "Bingo."

A candle. He almost burns his fingertips trying to light it as the slim stick goes black in his grasp, but the wick takes and there's a glass bubble to go over it so Prussia can grab the whole thing without fear of the flame blowing out. It's a surprising amount of light for one little candle, but it helps him find a second one on Lovino's side of the bed and light that too. His boyfriend just huffs in the light and buries his face in the pillow he's hugging, like he's trying to make a point about Prussia not being in bed with him.

Getting out the door without letting the dogs in is a challenge fit only for the Mighty Prussia! But he still almost gets knocked down by Blackie in her over-enthusiasm to see him again. He ends up almost closing the door on Berlitz's snout, but Aster must still be asleep somewhere and Prussia sets the candle down on a shelf next to his head so he can kneel down and give them both a good ruffling around the head and neck, or in Blackie's case a full-body hug when she jumps up, whimpering for more attention.

"You wanna walk? You wanna long walk in the snow? How about breakfast first, and we let the sun come up?" Because it's just fucking dumb to go walking before dawn in a place he can't remember the layout of. Hypothermia on day one is the opposite of what he wants this week. Most of the dog food is in the car still, but there're little travel bags attached to the kennels that he opens up now, pouring the kibble into two bowls from inside the carriers. He'll fill the third one when Aster turns up, otherwise the other two will steal the old dog's breakfast.

The house, Prussia soon discovers, is reasonably clean. There's a bit of dust here and there, especially on what few pieces of glass he can see in the candlelight, but it's the thin film of a few weeks' absence, not months or years of neglect. It's really one big room with what looks like a kitchen, a small dining room table with chairs, and then a sitting area with a proper stone fireplace and period-style furniture.

The windows aren't drafty and the door is sealed well (things he forgot to check last night), the wood floor doesn't creak too much either as he busies around and tries to navigate past the dogs. His first stop is that hearth, and when he finds seasoned logs stacked next to it there's a small set-up of thin-split kindling and crumpled newsprint. Prussia removes the glass cover from his candle (nearly burning himself _again_) and sets it to the paper, staying crouched next to the brickwork for a few minutes before pulling a medium-sized log over and gingerly propping it up on the modest fire.

Oh God, the kitchen has a wood stove. He checks in terror and there's only one tap on the faucet, meaning only one temperature for water: frozen. Lillie told him this cabin was _built_ in the 1880s, but he had no idea it had been kept in that era. He hasn't seen a broiler like that in just about a hundred and fifty years, there isn't even an icebox as he messes around with his candle and feels the panic start to build.

No hot water in the kitchen means no hot water for bathing.

No hot bath water means no hot shower for his cold boyfriend, which means cranky boyfriend, which means maybe there's a hotel they can go to instead? At least the sink isn't a pump, but as he lets the cold mineral water fill up the black kettle he found sitting on the iron stove, Prussia isn't even sure what kind of coffee Lovino picked up yesterday. He hangs the cold water on a hook over the fire in the den and scurries with his candle outside to get to the car.

Opening the door, there's a _lot_ of silent snow coming down from the dark sky, but as he looks back into the house and whistles for the dogs it's not impossible to see. In fact, there's a little lantern hanging from a post right next to the door, so as Blackie and Berlitz come trotting over and huff at the mounds of white, Prussia tugs the door shut behind them (where the fuck is Aster?) and focuses on that lantern.

He has to set his candle down again, thankful for the wide base of the holder and that the dogs don't knock it over by accident in the snow. Pulling a small knife from his belt, he takes the kerosene lamp down and- yep, there's still fuel. Scissors are better for clipping away the burnt residue, but he manages the sloppy task and sets the flammable cloth with the candle, adjusting the wick until he can hang it back up for better light and blow out his candle so he doesn't waste it.

Keys in hand, he hits the button to activate the power locks.

And then he hits it again.

Um.

One more time?

_Oh fuck don't do this to him now._

There's an actual key on the ring, but now Prussia's starting to sweat a little despite the cold air and snow coming down on his head. He gets the key in the hatch-back lock but then stops, withdrawing it and running around to the driver's side door to try that one first. He gets it open, slides up behind the wheel, and...

"FUCKING, FUCK, FUCK, _FUCK!_" Except in German because, you know, German.

After that Prussia just sits there for a few minutes, at which point he shamefully reaches up to the knob behind the wheel that controls the headlights. He flips it down from "Highbeam" and then rolls it all the way back to the "off" position. It doesn't do anything what with the dead battery and all, but it's the principle right now.

He's too frustrated to really get past this right now. Lovino's gonna flip his shit like a fish when he finds out and Prussia's gonna fucking deserve it. When the _hell_ did he get to be so bad at planning things? Okay yeah, the 90s were hell, and he spent most of the early 2000s still chilling in West's basement, but this is insane. He's not this fucking incompetent, so why the hell is he this fucking incompetent..?

Sliding bonelessly from the SUV, the fact that he sinks up to his knees in the snow doesn't help his composure. He waddles like a penguin through the white after shutting the door, because he's not gonna fuck that up too. When he pops the hatch this time he mechanically grabs the first cardboard box of supplies and wades over to the door to drop it there, making the same trip a few times without actually deciding whether or not there's any point in it. They at least need breakfast stuff like coffee and eggs, maybe dish-soap or something, but there's not enough labour to take his mind off all the immediate problems staring him in the face.

Dead battery. There's no second vehicle to give it a jump-start or electricity in the cabin to hook them up. He hasn't checked his phone but if they're on the wrong side of the mountain for reception then they're stranded. Nations can't die in the cold, but with this heavy, unending kind of snow fall there's almost no way he'll be able to walk into town in under four hours, probably closer to six if he remembers the route right.

Dead battery. He actually let the car battery die. And it was for the stupidest reason too: he forgot to turn off the only electric lights for miles around them. He hadn't turned off the lights, he hadn't made sure there was a proper fire going in the bedroom, he hadn't even checked if the dogs needed something to eat before going to bed. Would it have killed him to have at least checked to make sure that jacket they went out of their way to buy was actually waterproof so his boyfriend didn't get sick in the cold weather he wasn't used to? Why the hell hadn't he done what Lovino'd asked and fucking _checked_ with Lillie about what, exactly, this so-called chalet was like?

A low whine from the concerned Shepherd sitting next to him reminds Prussia that he's just sort of standing around now letting snow gather on his head and shoulders. It's melting in his hair and trickling cold water down his neck, because obviously he isn't cold enough after last night with no fire and the prospect of today with no shower. The dawn light is growing a bit stronger in the east, but it's hard to see thanks to the thick blanket of clouds dropping more layers of white on the trees and ground. It's eerily quiet, but that just makes the pounding in Prussia's throat and ears get louder.

He wants to be pissed off and instead he's just so fucking _sorry._

"-then go find him, I-!" The door swings open with a creak and Prussia jumps a little inside his jacket. He's got no idea what his face looks like but it's probably really pathetic, and the first thing he sees is sleepy Aster standing with his head against Lovino's knee in the doorway. He's wearing pants and his boots now, but unless those are Prussia's then he's climbed back into his wet things from yesterday. Prussia can barely lift his eyes up past the pullover on his boyfriend's chest, but he's positive he's just as sleepy and tousled as he was before.

The retriever doesn't try to come outside and Prussia isn't sure what to say.

"Gil?" He's not used to being sorry and he really hates this feeling. "Are you okay? Come inside, you look like you're gonna fall over."

"I'm sorry…" He doesn't know if he feels better or worse watching Lovino shift uncomfortably in the doorway, but when he bends down and grabs one of those boxes to drag in over the threshold, it's worse. Definitely worse. "I just-"

"Forgot to light the kitchen fire? Yeah, I noticed." Not just that- "You let the dog in the bedroom, you idiot." But he- "I swear if you think I'm not making breakfast just so _you_ don't have to walk the dogs later, you're fucking wrong." Lovino just drags another box in while he talks, Aster dancing around behind him a bit before vanishing towards the glow of the hearthfire. Blackie and Berlitz follow after, shaking the snow off their backs (much to Lovino's displeasure), and then it's just Prussia standing alone in the snow with Lovino holding the last box in his arms.

"Come inside, Gil. It's cold outside."

…okay.

* * *

**I'm pretty sure Prussia is spelt P-R-E-C-I-O-U-S.**

**See you soon with chapter 6.**


	6. Gilbird

**Never Say Never, Shattered.**

**Mwehehe~ this is my fun story, my happy story, my not-Recovery story.**

* * *

_**Triple Threat!**_

Gilbird

The only thing Prussia can hear is the _tap-tap-tap-tap _of the stainless steel knife on the kitchen cutting board. Over the dust and wood-smoke ingrained in the rough pillow under his face, he can sort of catch the growing scent of coffee grinds, but that's because there was actually a hand-crank grinder hidden in one of the drawers. A loud hiss signals the entry of whatever Lovino was chopping into the oiled skillet on the stove, and a few minutes later Gilbert guesses it's mushrooms and white onions.

Cracked pepper, oregano, garlic, and maybe some salt. There's something else he can smell before the aroma of eggs sizzling covers it part way, but he can barely pick his head up to ask. The last thing Lovino said to him was _'go sit by the fire and warm up, bastard_', so that's what Prussia's doing. He's also got Blackie occasionally prodding him with her cold nose and snuffing his wet hair, and judging by the relative silence in the kitchen Berlitz is probably sitting at attention diligently begging for scraps. He once again has no idea where the fuck Aster is, but he's probably curled up in their bed because that was where he vanished to earlier.

Prussia hasn't told him their car is dead, he's still waiting for an explosion about anything else on the list first.

It's getting brighter by the minute outside and all three fires are now burning: the hearth, the kitchen, and the bedroom. There's the sound of Lovino's boots thunking across the floor as he abandons the food for a minute and comes Prussia's way. With the scuff of wood against stone, he finally picks his head up just in time to watch Lovino place a more robust log in the hearth, one that will probably burn for the rest of the day.

"…I coulda done that." He's right here, after all.

"If you're sulking then yeah, but if you're just tired then whatever." It's a bit of both actually, but he's not gonna lie and say it isn't mostly sulking. Lovino drags the iron grate back in place in front of the flames to block the sparks and then hustles back into the kitchen. There's a rattle of cutlery and the sizzling on the stove stops as he lifts the skillet up and deposits whatever he's made onto plates, so Prussia has to at least get up so he can pour the-

Well shit, Lovino's taken care of the coffee too. Prussia's standing before he realizes that though, and as he drifts over to where the two mugs are sitting on the table. Lovino's is black but probably hiding two big scoops of sugar at the bottom, and Prussia's is a pale mocha colour thanks to all the cream he likes in it.

Going back to the couch and collapsing seems like a great alternative to breakfast right now, especially when Lovino swoops in with the plates and places Prussia's down in front of the chair he's standing beside.

"…You made hash-browns."

"I made _Italian_ hash-browns." With cracked pepper and garlic and oregano, and maybe a little bit of salt. There're onions and some mushrooms in there too, and as Prussia woodenly makes himself sit down, he corrects himself by realizing there is no added salt: those are little sausage bits chopped up in it too. But most of it is potato, little rough-cut squares and triangles of fried white tuber.

"You hate potatoes."

"I _loathe_ potatoes." But he made _potatoes_ for their breakfast. Lovino's fork is already moving to separate the hot white bites from the medley of other ingredients he threw in. There are eggs on their plates along with a few slices of tomato, so it's not like all there is to eat is hash, but Prussia can't get around it.

"You bought these?"

"No, the box of potatoes fairy was waiting for me this morning - _what do you think, Prussia?_" and that fast he goes from being Gilbert to being Prussia.

His eyes fall to the plate in front of him and Prussia starts spearing the food with his fork, trying not to mimic the angry way Lovino starts massacring one of his eggs. It's irrational but somehow it feels like his fault his boyfriend is eating something he hates, despite the fact that he didn't ask for it, and he didn't make Lovino cook them or put them on his own plate to eat around. Fuck, the Italian is supposed to be the stupid crybaby in this relationship, not Prussia, but as he sticks a loaded forkful into his mouth it's getting harder and harder to keep his composure intact.

He feels like _shit_ and the flavours that hit his tongue drive it home, because it tastes like what home should be. Warm and comfortable like the texture of the potato as he chews, and familiar spices in the sausage that he's almost positive is German, even if it might be Swiss, but it tastes German. But there's also that hint of something foreign in the herbs. It's the way he knows the mushrooms and onions were braised in something else before the heavier ingredients were added, an almost intangible sting of balsamic vinegar and maybe even a tease of lemon reminding him that this isn't something just he or West could make.

His pity parade kicks it up a notch when he remembers sharply how he wouldn't have to guess the ingredients at all if he'd just fucking stood up and watched Lovino cook like he usually does.

"What's wrong?"

"It tastes fine." Prussia croaks, and he can't cover it up but he still tries with a sip of his coffee. It tastes a bit different than normal, but that's what brewing it in a pot does. "No it- it's really good, thanks." It is good, and he's ravenous after last night, and the potatoes are hot and the eggs, although cooling, are still warm and filling. With the fires going the air is also warming up around them too, so by the time they finish their meal in silence Lovino's slung his jacket over the back of his chair. It's obvious he wants to say something, but his boyfriend holds his peace until he half-heartedly asks if Prussia wants his potatoes.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." It should be _'Fuck yeah!'_ or _'Hell yes!'_ but he can't make it work. He does feel better though, eating faster and polishing off his plate as the full feeling in his stomach starts soothing his mind and warming up the rest of him. Lovino's just sitting across from him, coffee cup in hand, and he knows he's watching and he _still_ wants to say something, so Prussia just avoids eye-contact.

The silence doesn't get any easier while Lovino's doing the dishes and Prussia shaves and brushes his teeth using a pot of still-warm water that was left out for him. The menial chore is something he would have done, but Lovino's finished with it too fast for him to get in on sharing the work. His boyfriend vanishes into the bedroom and a few rough words later Aster comes toddling out and meanders into the kitchen to flop down again by the stove. Prussia opens the door to let the two younger dogs out for a bit, and that's when Lovino's voice calls him from the bedroom.

Just how long was he outside, and then down on his belly on that couch? When Prusssia gets in there he watches Lovino blow out the candle from earlier, enough milky light coming in through the window for them to see each other clearly. There are at least two new blankets on the bed compared to last night, and he found more pillows from somewhere too. The fact that he went out of his way to _make_ the bed just-

"Okay, what the fuck?" Uuuh- "You've been going on about this trip for days, yesterday you couldn't keep your hands off me, but ever since we got up you've been a sulky little _shit._" Lovino's still wearing that black pullover from last night, and Prussia can confirm now that the sweat pants are his, not those wet ones from yesterday (those are drying in the living room). His hair is finger-combed and aside from his teeth and scruff he's done nothing about his appearance today. Oh and he's scowling and pointing at him. "What the hell is going on? If the food was that bad then you should have fucking helped with those stupid potato things, because yes, I hate them, so why the fuck did we even have to argue about that?"

"It was a pretty tame argument-"

"_Because you're being a little bitch!" _Shit, here it comes! "No! Fuck, don't do that! Don't flinch like I'm gonna hit you, what the hell is that supposed to say to me?" He's not flinching he- _"Then stop doing it!_" He is not! "Yes you are! Every time I say something you jerk your head like I'm gonna slap you! What the hell is going on!"

"The car is dead!" Wh- oh _fuck_ that was not what he wanted to say. He kind of wishes his lips would meld together so he can never ever speak again, but God's not up for macabre pranks like that and Prussia just has to stand here and deal with it. Lovino doesn't look like he understands, eyebrows kind of pulled down and jaw slack before he gets it together and gives his head a shake.

"Wait, what?" Shit, shit, shit- "Are you saying we're stranded here?"

"Is your phone working?"

"I haven't checked." Well unless it's working then they're stranded. "How much firewood to we have?"

"Uh…" why isn't he running off to find his phone and check the reception? "What?"

"Firewood! You know, those big blocks of shit we burn for heat? How much is outside?"

"I have no idea-?"

"Well go check!" Um, okay?

Before he knows it Prussia's being hustled outside, jacket in hand, and he's fishing through his pockets for the keys Lillie sent them. Along with the pair that open the cabin, another set is for the shed that's a very short trek from the door to the other side of the drive where their dead vehicle is sitting.

West's dogs come bounding through the snow to greet him, panting and wet from running one another around in circles, and it's hard to make them settle down and wait. He has to fight with the lock on the shed for about ten minutes in the falling snow. He's still confused by Lovino's lack of reaction and irritated as his hands start to freeze, but when he gets the rickety wooden door to swing open he's surprised by what's inside.

There's a shit-load of timber, for one. Not all of it's split, there are plenty of logs that will need a good strike with the tools hanging on the opposite wall: two axes, a hatchet, a sledge-hammer and wedge. There are very modern-looking tins of kerosene for those period lamps, plus what looks like gasoline..?

Hot damn, is that-?

"_Gil!"_ What? No, just give him a sec- "_Gilbert you shit!" _It's wedged right at the very back. He almost knocks his head on a set of unlit lamps hanging from the low ceiling, tripping clumsily over the handle of a shovel some ass-hat didn't put back in its place before leaving. Blackie goes leaping off with a loud, happy bark to play with the toy yelling from the doorstep, and Prussia has to navigate both the messy floor and Berlitz' eager nose as he tries to stick his head between his legs and-

"_No, you stupid dog! Go inside! Gilbert get out here!"_ Wait a fucking minute, will you? He can hear Blackie still barking and Lovino throwing a fit, but he's also stomping through the snow while Prussia takes a spider-web to the fa- EEW GET IT OFF.

Prussia is not afraid of spiders! Don't you fucking think it for a second! He just doesn't like spider webs on his fucking face in the fucking dark with his fucking boyfriend fucking yelling at him! He's killed and eaten rats before, Prussia is not fucking scared of spiders!

"My phone works just fine, what are you-?" The creepy feeling makes him jump, eyes snapped shut in the already dark back of the shed. His jump makes Berlitz bark, which makes Blackie bark and come running inside, and there's not enough room for Prussia and two dogs in a messy shed. The dogs run into each other and Prussia loses his balance, somebody's shoulders colliding with the backs of his legs before he topples back over both animals with a loud yell, pissed for the instant it takes to snap his hand back and catch himself, and-

"_AAHH!"_

_NAIL._

_HAND._

_JESUS._

_FUCKING CHRIST._

"… I'll go boil more water."

* * *

**It's plotless I don't have to pace anything mwehehehe.**


	7. Romacat

**Shattered.**

**It took forever because sometimes these things take forever whee~**

* * *

_**Triple Threat!**_

Romacat

They're back in the living room, by the hearth, and Lovino has Prussia's hand cradled in his with a bottle of ointment open on the coffee table next to them. Aster has his big body tucked under Prussia's arm, head in his lap and the Nation's fingers combing through his soft fur. Blackie is watching dolefully from the floor, and Berlitz isn't putting up with their shit right now after being tripped over and landed on in that shed.

"It's not that bad." Prussia grumbles, and his boyfriend just huffs and rifles through the little first-aid box he found in the kitchen.

"You stabbed a filthy nail through your hand, _and_ you screamed like a girl."

"I was startled, I yelled."

"You shrieked like my little brother."

"You saying your brother screams like a little girl?"

"I've got ears, don't I?" No, shit, Prussia doesn't want to smile right now. But he watches his boyfriend wrap his palm with the soft white strips. The first-aid kit is like the kerosene Prussia found: distinctly modern with flashy labels and printed instructions. They've figured out by now that this is one of those special retreats for people who wanna slip into the period of choice (the old flyer Lovino found while looking for blankets spelled it out quite clearly).

"You said something about your phone?" Lovino ties off the bandages as Prussia asks the question, letting go of his hand so he can flex his fingers and judge whether the wraps are too tight.

"The signal's weak, but I've got one. We're not stranded." Well that's a relief… He gives his hand back and Lovino tugs the knot open, loosening the binding a little bit before retying the bandages in place. "I bought enough food for a week and there's firewood for the whole winter." Okay, that's really good. "So when whoever has this place next comes, we get a jump-start from them and go home."

"So… you're okay staying here?" His boyfriend hasn't blown his top and screamed about anything yet except Prussia's attitude, which he doesn't find very fair, but it's also confusing as hell to deal with. "'cause you know there's gotta be a hotel somewhere, or we can just cross the border back to-"

"Look, did you want to do this stupid mountain holiday thing or not?" Of course he did, but he expected central heating, hot showers, and a kitchen with appliances that didn't need 24-hour surveillance to keep working. "So you rented a period chalet, you moron."

"Yeah, well-" Lovino's hands are warm, but his fingertips are kind of cool for some reason. Prussia only notices because he feels them run along the back of his neck, parting his hair as his boyfriend leans over and kisses him with cool lips. He's doing it again, being affectionate and warm when he's supposed to be a shrieking fire-cracker.

Prussia's gonna make himself be okay with it, eyes sliding shut as the hand in Aster's fur starts pushing. The kiss is brief but Lovino doesn't let go of him, and he doesn't open his eyes because he can feel the smile his lover's wearing when it grazes his lips.

"And I expected my boyfriend to warm me up last night, so neither one of us has what he wants."

"It was freezing."

"It _was._" Lovino's lips dip down again and Prussia can feel himself being coaxed back a little, increasing his efforts to get the sleepy dog off the god-damned couch behind him. The animal won't move and Prussia wraps his other arm around his boyfriend, alright with giving Aster the ultimatum: get the fuck up or we'll crush you.

The dog tolerates their weight for about two seconds before pulling himself off the cushions with a grunt and flopping to the floor. Prussia falls back a little but the hard arm of the couch isn't enough to distract him from what's going on. Lovino's wearing his clothes and he's placed himself very neatly between Prussia's legs, one hand planted on the cushion under him and the other still gently tangled in his hair. Prussia's got one hand up behind his head to help cushion himself on the hard wood, and despite the pissy feelings he's been dealing with he smiles into the dark lips caressing his.

"You like the cold." He murmurs, and Lovino tightens that hand in his hair like a punishment for speaking. "You _like_ the snow."

"Shut up."

"You _really_ like it." Grinding is good, it's warmth in the half-heated cabin, and Lovino's nimble fingers sliding down to unbutton his pants just make it better. "More snow, more sex, right?"

"No sex if you don't stop talking." He's probably thrilled that there isn't gonna be any skiing, unless there's a set of them already up here. Lovino doesn't care about the car because it means there's no excuse to get out of bed except food and dogs. Prussia closes his eyes as his boyfriend's cool hands slide up under his shirt and sweater, hiking both layers up until there are fingers and palms working on his body, just cold enough that he can tell when they start to warm up.

It's tame but it feels nice, the sore pain aching in his fingers and palm fades away when he sits up a little and lifts his arms so his boyfriend can pull the shirt and jumper off. He can't bend his fingers or really move them, but he can kiss, and he can be kissed, and he can slide his good hand around his boyfriend's waist under his sweater when Lovino dips his head and places warm kisses down his throat. It's still a bit cool inside for his taste, but this is so much nicer than being jerked off in a changing room or kneeling on frosted floorboards giving head.

It's a shame when Lovino's lips leave his skin, Prussia's eyes a bit foggy as he opens them and watches his lover pull that black sweater up over his head. He drops it on the floor before curling one warm, bare arm over his shoulder, pushing him down again until Prussia shuffles their hips so he can inch down the couch and away from that wooden arm-rest. If Lovino's put off balance at all then he hides it, soft lips and hot tongue descending down Prussia's chest and treating him gently, almost reverently, and if it didn't feel so good then maybe the touch would be a little slow for them.

Even if it's slow, it's always good with Lovino. It doesn't matter what he needs or wants or kind of hopes for, his lover always knows and never questions. It's got to be the only thing Lovino never actually complains about, because even if he's teasing he never groans or whines about doing anything, he just smiles the way he is right now against Prussia's chest. When he lifts himself back up he's smiling, eyes barely open as Prussia tilts his chin up and lets his lover lock him in another slow, warm kiss.

"_I love you."_ He's so fucking chatty, especially in Italian as he murmurs the words and slides his hands down Prussia's torso, fingers tweaking and teasing him until Lovino lifts his hips enough to access the front of Prussia's pants. He's not going too fast or too slow, everything's just right as the blonde shuts his eyes and lets out a low gasp as the tension on his hips builds and fades as the button and zipper both come undone.

His best response is to reach both hands down and cup Lovino's a- _aaah!_

And that brings sexy time to an end, because as Prussia hisses and snaps his injured hand back, Lovino's head comes up and his hands vanish from that good work they were starting in his pants. Lovino's one rule is no pain: he won't inflict it, he won't tolerate it, he doesn't like the sound or sight of it in bed. This isn't the kind of pain he _meant_ when he outlined all of that the first time, but as he sits up with a sigh Prussia is not fucking impressed.

"Shit, come on!" No no no, don't you fucking put that shirt on! "I thought we were gonna-?"

"Maybe you should go walk the dogs first." _NO. _"Look, if your hand is fine then it'll stitch itself up a little by the time you get back." Lovino is seriously over-estimating the healing capacity of a dissolved nation, and Prussia sits up to grab his arm and stop him from standing up.

"Hey, you do not get me hard and half-naked before blitzing off like a flake." Because if Lovino doesn't want sex, Lovino doesn't instigate. If it's Prussia making the first move then that's different, but if it's the Italian then he wants Prussia mewling face-down in bed or gasping against a wall, and nothing short of a very explicit "NO." is going to stop him. "I hurt my hand, big deal, stop being so fucking sensitive over nothing!"

"It's not nothing."

"Yes it is." Prussia bites back. "It's my hand and it's a little wound and it's nothing."

"You rammed a rusty nail through your fucking palm and out the other side, let it heal." He _will_, just- "God, fine! If you're that hard then just lay down and I'll fix it." He says it like he would if they were talking about doing the dishes, or answering a call from work: the mood is fucking dead.

"Shit, nevermind." Lovino's scowling and Prussia knows he's being pissy, but his boyfriend's hands are stalled reaching for his waist and the blonde pushes them away. Blowing him is not the answer, it's not what he wants or was looking forward to, and now they're both sitting here in stifling, petty silence not trying very hard to figure out what the hell to do.

Aster makes the decision by laying down on Lovino's discarded shirt, forcing him to get down on his knees and physically remove the dog from his spot. Prussia glances over the back of the couch when he hears a canine whine and sees Blackie looking up at him dolefully with a red ball in her mouth, tail hesitantly swishing across the floor.

Fine.

"I'll go walk the dogs."

"Yeah, you do that."

"Wanna come with?"

"No."

Okay then.

* * *

**I know it's short but the scene stumped me for some reason, and I didn't wanna follow Prussia outside. 8 is about a quarter of the way through though, and I think I might end this either at 9 or 10. Plotless Prumano is a nice distraction from everything!**


	8. Germouser

***sneaks in, deposits a very late update, and sneaks out***

* * *

_**Triple Threat**_

Germouser

It doesn't matter what they do, every time they aim for sex it fails.

Prussia almost gets him that night after dinner, when they're not quite ready for bed but he has his Italian down on the mattress with his arms pinned. Despite the dull pain in his hand, it's the simple exchange of _'if you won't do it then I will!'_ as he attaches his lips to the side of his lover's throat and starts warming South Italy up to the idea of taking off his pants.

And then bam, Aster is on the bed next to them and he falls asleep instantly. Prussia's just shoving the mutt off the bed before they realize Blackie is curled up behind Lovino and Berlitz is staring beady-eyed from the footboard trying to gauge how much room is left.

Dogs: 1, Nations: 0.

The next day, after sharing the quiet bed with all three animals, they're figuring out how much of a hassle it will be to actually fill the copper tub in the stone bathroom so they can clean up. Lovino remarks that it's a really deep tub and Prussia, in good humour, climbs in and lays down comfortably in the slopped basin, both arms resting on the edges.

Cue Lovino climbing in on top of him, hands cradling his head while his hips and tongue encourage Prussia to dance with him.

Cue Blackie thinking this must be a great new game and dropping in on them, planting her front paws on Lovino's outraged back.

Dogs: 2, Nations: -1.

For all that they've both spent the majority of their lives without running water or heated plumbing, it takes a horrendous amount of time to actually fill the tub with hot water so they can bathe. And then they have to find the soap, which takes them about as long to accomplish as it does for the bath-water to get too cold for Lovino's sensitive tush.

"It'd be warmer with you in here."

"Bullshit, I can see ice forming." So no bath sex, but Prussia does get a nice massage for all their troubles. Lovino has strong hands, and with or without callouses depending on the season they're nice to have on him. It warms his skin up under the thick lather and it just feels _really really good_ to have the knots in the back of his neck and all down his arms worked out. It's not a specialized massage like something Japan or China can do, but when it's your lover and you're naked anything can feel good, especially if he's Italian.

But Prussia's less happy about having to sit there in the cool water for what feels like a really, really long time after the fact. They both forgot to heat up a bucket of water for him to dump over his head and rinse out all that soap in his hair and decorating his back, so while Lovino's busy doing that, Prussia is left… uh… shivering.

Which means he really does have to get dressed right away, and Lovino's too busy tsking over his cold hands and nape to suggest a more active way of heating him up. Prussia spends the rest of their morning under a blanket with Berlitz taking a rare nap next to him, and then it's hot cocoa after lunch and the calmer side of why this relationship works.

"And I _told_ West, if he doesn't make himself like crystal clear about this then-"

"You can't be subtle with Spain, you just can't. He's my best friend but it's just not going to work."

They know the same people, they're on the same continent, and their little brothers are attached at the hip and _so damn cute sometimes…_

"I swear to God if Veneziano doesn't man up about this Valentine's thing I'm going to kick him in the ass soon."

"No, don't! It's way more fun watching." They've been watching for decades though, which is part of what makes it so damn sad and it's why Lovino gives him a very judging look from the arm-chair next to the couch. "Tell me again about that stuff they got into back in the seventies: the olympics?"

"You never get tired of that story, do you?" No, never, and he never ever will. Prussia grins over his half-empty mug and doesn't trust himself to drink the thick chocolate while Lovino puffs out his cheeks and tries to decide whether to give in or not. "The eighties were kind of pathetic for them."

"No no! There was that thing at the summer games! C'mon, spill!" Prussia has a love-hate relationship with the decades he spent under Soviet control, but sometimes West is way too sensitive about it. The first person who was willing to actually open up and tell Prussia about what happened to _them_ beyond the hum-drum economics and politics was Lovino. Who spiked whose drink at which party, which nation almost threw whats-his-face in a nearby body of water, the in-jokes, the secret handshakes: all that shit you miss when you're just not around for it.

Life behind the Iron Curtain wasn't all censorship laws and work-camps: they had good times, they had triumphs, and they had symphonies and progress too. Western nations seem to forget that and it usually grinds on Prussia's nerves, but Lovino isn't dramatic enough to get stuck on the issue. He's the person who thought to show Prussia a picture of Canada's god-awful mullet from the 80s, and was happy to ignore the politics of French bombings and separation anxieties. Even before Prussia and South Italy got together intimately, they were still buddies: there are only so many world meetings you can be completely useless at before you start streaming classic movies and riffing on them in the back of the conference hall together.

"No you don't understand: Austria was _so high._" And when it comes to stories from an infamous era of personal freedom, Prussia can't keep the laughter from forming tears because it's such a priceless image. "I mean he was completely blitzed: if we'd had a lampshade he would have put it on his head and danced for us."

"_Stop-! Stop I can't-!"_ Prussia's going to pass out, he's got the dog looking at him like he's fucking cracked, and he just can't stop laughing because it's so fucking impossible in his head. "No one took a picture of this!"

"It was the seventies, man…"

They aren't paying attention to the time, just the conversation and the fire when it starts to burn down and Prussia gets to run around the whole house stoking up all the flames keeping General Winter outside. The learning curve is shallow and after only one or two false starts each they've got fire management back down to a comfortable science, which is good because after Prussia gets back from walking the dogs and the two of them take a long time preparing dinner, the wood-boxes are almost empty.

"Guess what you're doing tomorrow."

"You?" Prussia slides an arm around his lover and Romano leans into it for a kiss. The two of them seem to agree that the curse is over as the Italian stops washing dishes and lets the last of the cutlery clatter to the bottom of the sink. Prussia's more interested now in getting under all those warm clothes than making any clever comments about wood and axes, tightening his arm around the Italian as Lovino shifts his weight and turns around to face him. It doesn't mean he isn't thinking of those horrible puns, but he isn't saying them as wet hands creep up to his shoulders and their thighs stand flush against each other. If he tilts his head he can just catch a hint of the roasted peppers and fennel from their dinner on his partner's lips.

Third time's the charm, or the forth- fifth? The score is pretty dismal and as they turn slowly, Prussia's got his eyes closed because he's pretty sure he can navigate back to the bedroom after two days of being cooped up in here. This is actually a moment when a shorter lover would be better, because Lovino's too big to go scooping up bridal-style or carrying with his legs wrapped around Prussia's waist. But what they can do only requires Prussia to stoop his shoulders a bit, asking a question without breaking the kiss completely.

He can feel Lovino smiling against his lips as he ascents, tangling his arms over Prussia's shoulders and holding on tight. The German's answer is to wrap his arms around him in a bear-hug before straightening and leaning back a little. His lover's laugh and a few inches of space between his toes and the floor are their reward, Lovino still laughing at the stupid cute crap as Prussia starts walking them awkwardly around and past the dinner table- they learned that lesson in Italy.

His lover's fingers are stroking and caressing the back of his head and neck, reaching up to comb back through the cropped white hair and run back above his ear. The cold weather has started chapping his lips, but Prussia can ignore that as he leans back a little more so Lovino's chest is braced on his, his hand out to shove the bedroom door open before he hefts his boyfriend inside. Knocking the door shut earns him an offended bark by whichever dog tried following them, but he has to let Lovino down for a moment just to make sure there are no other furry friends hiding close by.

The room is warm, the bed is right there, and Lovino's hands get his belt off before Prussia realizes his boyfriend is down on his knees and not getting back up.

"Hell no, get on the bed."

"I like it just fine down here." Prussia's pants are already open and Lovino shimmies his pants down until they fall almost to his knees.

"But the sex-" His boyfriend's dark hands start stroking his thighs, escaping happily up his boxers to caress his hips and shut him up. Once again though, for some bizarre reason Lovino's hands feel too cool to be normal.

"What do you think this is?" He thinks it's his boyfriend's hot mouth teasing him through the thin cotton of his boxers, lips mouthing their way down his length as Prussia leans back against the wall and watches his partner work. It's one thing to not want a blow-job, it's another thing to actually make Lovino stop and take off his pants so they can do something a little more up-scale.

"We have lube," shit it's getting hard to breathe, his boxers tented already as Lovino's hands slide around behind him and scoop his ass comfortably. It's hard to keep standing with his hips thrust forward the way they are now, those hands warming up as they give him a squeeze and his partner just kisses and laps through the soft fabric.

"We have all night." Okay fine, he's convinced now stop teasing- "It's no fun if we rush." It's no fun standing in damp boxers either, but as those hands both clench and massage from his ass down along his thighs, he's pretty sure he knows what Lovino's thinking. It's hotter than Prussia wants to admit when Lovino starts pulling down the waistband with his _mouth_ until just his head is exposed, and then that tongue is there to greet him and he closes his eyes with a wanton sound.

"It's not a fucking lolly." _Lick, lick, lick,_ Prussia just kind of gasps the words between flicks of Lovino's tongue, appreciated the concentrated attention.

"Doesn't taste like one either." When he stops to say something Lovino makes sure his lips are still touching him, letting his words hum low in his throat as he smiles before pinching Prussia sharply, making him jerk a little bit before he growls down at the brunette. Why'd he stop? "You stay right here, I don't want you to move a muscle."

"What's it with you and making me stand?"

"I didn't know the Mighty Prussia was so weak-kneed he has to take it lying down." Asshole. He wants to say something real nasty but Lovino gets his lips around him again from the side this time, his whole tongue getting into it for a few firm, slow laps that do so much more than the teasing flicks from before.

Prussia pushes his back against the wall and folds his arms tight under his chest, adjusting his legs so he's braced properly with Lovino still kneeling between his legs. He's got one lip between his teeth and it's hard not to demand his partner speed it up a little, but that throat is practically begging him to fuck it now. When the other man pulls away he has the audacity to stand up with a smile and place a hand on Prussia's chest.

"Stay there," he repeats, and Prussia doesn't care who tops right now but he's mighty fond of Lovino when he's like this: when he's got an idea of what he wants to do and how he wants it done. His boyfriend goes straight for that little night table next to the bed and pulls open the top drawer, rifling around past the complimentary bible (pah!), spare candles and match book. And then he keeps rifling. And rifling. And rifling, and-

"Shit."

…No.

"What?"

"Where the fuck's the-?" NO.

Lovino turns around and marches straight across the room towards him, turning around the foot of the bed and dragging out his suitcase in a hurry, unzipping the pocket and sticking his hand inside. Prussia holds his breath and puts the thought out of his head, remembering that mouth on him and the way that's going to feel when Lovino gets back over here and finishes what he started. But his boyfriend is still tearing through the luggage, and he's getting more violent by the minute.

"We don't need condoms."

"I'm not looking for condoms."

Happy thoughts, Prussia, happy thoughts: moaning and kissing and hair-pulling, sweating and gasping and getting tangled in bed sheets. Happy-fucking-thoughts, Prussia, happy thoughts about fucking.

Happy thoughts about fucking with lube because nation or not, going in dry is a mistake you only make _once_.

"Oh my God." Lovino says what Prussia doesn't let himself think, but he's got to admit that he can feel himself getting worked up in the wrong way as he stays standing where Lovino put him. "Did you move it?"

"No." This cottage is fucking cursed.

"Then where the fuck did it go!?" Cursed as all fucking _shit._

Fate: +100. Nations: Prussia's frustrated tears.

* * *

**No hurt Sunny for late, just review for Prussia?**


	9. I Have Run Out of Relevant Pet Names

**Mr. Brightside, If Everyone Cared.**

**Triple Threat will have ten chapters!**

* * *

_**Triple Threat**_

I Have Run Out of Relevant Pets

"We are going to the store, we are going to buy some fucking-"

"The car's still dead."

"I HATE THIS COUNTRY YOU GET LIETCHTENSTIEN ON THE PHONE AND TELL HER HOW MUCH I HATE HER."

The snow hasn't stopped falling since they arrived, which is starting to get a bit worrying and by their fourth day in the mountains Prussia digs out that generator. The only thing more frustrating than trying to jumpstart their dead car battery is not being able to fuck one another in peace.

For that single and solitary reason, this is the worst romantic getaway Prussia's ever experienced, and he hasn't been on very many. They've actually agreed already that it's been a nice vacation in general: good food, good company, nice and quiet, no little brothers, etc. But it's been shit when it comes to anything that has to do with _why they fucking came here._

Ie: fucking.

Wait there was supposed to be some skiing too, but no car plus no skiis plus no way of getting around to a safe slope for some winter fun has put a damper on that too.

"C'mon you piece of shit!" That's why Prussia's fighting with the fucking generator: not because of skiing, but because _he really wants this get-away to not suck, now __**come on.**_

The SUV is half-buried in the snow, so while Prussia argues with the jump cables and the rusty heap of the generator, Lovino is cussing and swearing around the other side of the vehicle with a shovel trying to dig out the doors and tires.

Yes, they could just suck each other off.

Yes, in a perfect world they'd find an alternative like olive-oil or something.

The point is that this week was supposed to be _perfect_, but so far this has not been _perfect_, it has been _shit_ and they're going to get the fucking weekend they want _the way they want it_ before they go home!

Which means not treating each other like a dirty secret in a board-room where you can't smile or talk to the one you're pleasuring.

And it means not wasting a sixty-euro bottle of oil that's just going to make a huge mess and wind up scarring his boyfriend's memories of this trip forever.

Prussia is not a romantic dope who fantasizes about rose petals and candles and shit, but their complete inability to do anything more than kiss and paw without distraction is starting to kill him. Now he wants a roaring fire and an open bottle of wine while they kiss and sigh into each other, now he wants to remember what his lover's skin looks like when he sweats under a panel of moonlight. He wants to relive the experience of being completely in the dark with only those sighs and scents to keep him sane in the wake of all the physical pleasure they're so good at giving each other.

He wants a lot of stupid, sentimental things right now…

_WHAM._

_AND A FACE FULL OF SNOW IS NOT ONE OF THEM, LOVINO._

"What the _fuck!_"

"Wake up, damn it!" Of course Lovino isn't intimidated by Prussia's bellow, he's just standing there with the shovel stuck in the snow and flakes of white covering his new jacket and scarf. His hair looks almost black with the frosting sticking to it and melting. "You've been staring at that thing for ten minutes without doing anything!"

"Well it's not as easy as it looks!"

"Is the spark-plug working?" What the-? What a stupid question to ask _of course it is!_

"Who's the engineer here?"

_POW!_

Oh, Lovino did not just hit him with another snowball.

"Well then fix it you- oh…" Oh is right, Italian.

Prussia balls up a chunk of snow and hurls it through the air, but Lovino's already hiding behind the side of the SUV as the powder explodes against the windshield. He gets another one on the go and trudges through the deep snow as fast as he can, arm raised to throw again when he gets hit with another blast to the shoulder.

"Cheap shot!" But this time he gets the back of Lovino's jacket before his opponent scurries around the back end of the car. He's left the shovel in the snow however, so Prussia grabs that and looks at the tall layer of snow stacked on top of the SUV. Using the heavy tool to push against it, he's rewarded with an undignified shriek as a cascade of snow comes down on his lover's head.

"_Sonofabitch!_"

The dogs are in on the action too now, a quick bark back inside bringing Berlitz at a run as Blackie runs around towards Lovino and starts attacking the snow he tries picking up. Her enthusiasm gives Prussia enough of a distraction as he creeps around that he not only has another snow-ball in his hand, but he gets an arm around Lovino's shoulders before _cramming it right into his face!_

The result is a spew of angry Italian mixed with what _almost_ feels like Lovino trying to bite him through his glove. But while Prussia's too busy laughing at him, Lovino one-ups him by kicking one leg back through his in the snow, and with a hook around his ankle and another swipe forward, Prussia feels the world bend before his feet fly out from under him and he's on his back in the snow with Lovino on top of him.

Prussia expects a kiss.

Prussia _gets_ two hands dumping snow on him, cold snow that's very cold, and as it melts over his shouting face and gets in his hair it's _still fucking cold,_ and that's what turns him off of this stupid game.

"I give! I give! Enough! Stop it, cut it out I get it!"

"Drown you in snow-!"

"_You fucking started it!_" Which doesn't mean anything as they start grappling in the snow, soaking wet and frankly not that cold anymore as the two younger dogs go insane and start barking. Out the corner of his eye Prussia knows they're jumping and yipping with each other because they know the difference between a play fight and a real battle, and as Prussia gets the upper-hand and rolls Lovino awkwardly over a mound of packed snow, he laughs in triumph as his lover stops fighting and starts grabbing onto him. He's got a pile of almost-ice under his hips and Prussia's weight forcing his shoulders down, and the threat of cold snow down his shirt is what gets South Italy to surrender.

"I fucking hate you- let me up!"

"After you ignored me? Hell no." Such an angry green glare under wet black bangs, so Prussia pushes a little more because he knows it hurts- but not enough to really harm his lover. "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

"Fix the fucking engine and I'll do exactly that." Nope, he has to do better than that. Prussia already wants the battery charged and a new bottle of what they need to make their evening complete: what does Lovino have to _offer_ on top of that?"

"Fuck you."

"Again, something different." Prussia _would_ lean down right now and kiss him, but Prussia doesn't feel like having Lovino use his lower half to catapult him into the snow. He knows not to underestimate his lover when he wants freedom.

"Potatoes three ways for dinner now _let me the fuck up._" Deal.

But there's still one other thing Prussia wants, so he's in luck that when he lets Lovino sit up, his lover turns a grab for his shoulder into a hold that pulls them together for a kiss. It's a cold kiss, and they're both wet from the snow, but that's just an excuse to kiss a little longer and let Prussia bump their noses together. Lovino isn't shy about letting his tongue slide over his bottom lip either, but both of them are cold and ass-deep in the snow, so with a throaty little 'humph' from the brunet, the kisses come to a close with Prussia still straddling his lover on the ice, and Lovino casually holding his thighs with both gloved hands.

"Potatoes three ways, huh?" Fuck it, one more kiss, and then smiles with chapped lips still touching and warm breaths in the falling snow.

"Mhmm. I was thinking unpeeled, unwashed, and frozen."

"You're such a little bitch sometimes."

"Says the fancy Prussian who can't jump-start a car."

It's dark by the time Prussia finally does get the stupid generator to wake up and work, but when it runs out of fuel right as he's getting ready to connect the cables, he throws them down in a fit and goes back inside to warm his frozen ass up by the fire. They have more fuel, he's just out of fucking patience.

Brazed chicken and potatoes is what's waiting for him on the table though, and Prussia is so fucking thankful when Lovino grudgingly passes a small bowl of garlic mash and a plate of oven roasted potatoes to him and tells him he'd better not complain about the lack of a third offering. The Italian has a portion of tuber-free vegetables for himself, and between the two of them they clean up the chicken pieces and bread with only quiet conversation and the light clink of wine-glasses and cutlery.

"Your lips are blue." It's bugging Prussia again: every time he turns his back his lover comes back twice as cold as he ought to be. "Did you take a hot bath?"

"My lips are not blue." Uh, yeah they kinda are, Prussia can see it where he's sitting across from him. "And no. I thought about it but that's a lot of work. Besides, you were out there a lot longer than I was."

"I'm also used to it." Lovino isn't shivering and the food's put enough colour on his face that Prussia isn't worried, but even if his lover is being unusually helpful for this vacation, he doesn't want to force him to put up with being cold. "I'll run it for you."

"It's fine, drink you wine."

"What if I fill the tub for myself, and you just happen to find your way in there with me?" Lovino doesn't argue this time, he just distracts himself by holding up his wine-glass and closing one eye, staring through the thin glass trying to analyze the colour. The way he sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth when he does it isn't as cute as the way Prussia knows he has _no idea_ it's one of his quirks.

"Only if I get to open another bottle and bring it in with me." Prussia's fine with that.

Anyone who thinks it's sissy to want a hot soak has, in Prussia's opinion, never done a proper day's hard work in their life. They get shit done properly this time and the water is still steaming hot by the time the clothes come off and they both sink in, and as weird as it is to undress without all the kissing and stroking that usually goes along with it, they just sort of agree that it's more important to get in the hot water first and make out later.

Or make out now, since they're in here.

"This thing is not big enough." Lovino's got to be comfortable as hell before he'll laugh between kisses, and with their legs cramped for space trying to wrap around each other, he somehow pulls that level of comfort off and snorts out a giggle past Prussia's ear. The hot water is better than a blanket because when Lovino touches his face, it leaves little beads of warm water that linger and trickle along his skin. They only added a little soap to the bath too, not really enough for two people and a long soak, so when the steam teases a gentle mist of sweat off his lover's face, Prussia can smell and taste it just the way he wants to.

When you're tired and you _were_ cold, it's hard to be so hung up on the sexual side of things. Sex itself is hard work- it's enjoyable as hell, but it's exhausting. When you're already exhausted it's nice to just have another warm body naked and pressed against yours, because skin is nice, and kisses are better, and when Lovino wants to be affectionate where he's laying on top of Prussia with his arms wrapped around his neck, Prussia isn't in the mood to go suggesting anything more or better.

Because he likes feeling Lovino run his damp hands back through his hair, and he likes the gentle sound of the water dripping from the tap. If he focuses then he can actually feel the ripples from Lovino's breaths, and if he falls asleep like this he's going to wake up looking like a prune.

"Hey." Hm? "My shoulders are getting cold, switch places?" And then a kiss under his ear, just because.

That's not a problem either since Prussia's neck is starting to hurt by being hooked over the back of the tub. They lose some of their precious hot water by moving around and maybe being a little too enthusiastic about all these new angles and ways to touch, but eventually Lovino's the one on his back with Prussia finding the right way to lay on him. If anything, this position actually suits him better because now his nose is right against Lovino's throat, eyes closed as he places a kiss and then decides he'd rather leave a love-mark. His lover doesn't complain and just hooks his arms around him under the water, fingertips drawing shapes and letters on the small of Prussia's back. When it starts to tickle then Prussia laughs a little and wiggles against him, and he's not sure if he wants Lovino to do it again or leave him alone.

They stay like that, comfortable and warm, for a very long time. Prussia actually loses track completely because he knows he falls asleep, and he just doesn't care because his wake up call is Lovino brushing a wet hand gently over his flushed face. He's okay with being weak for a few deliriously warm and happy moments, because his lover lifts him a little on one arm and then gives him a wine-sweet kiss that's so bitter and kind that Prussia almost slides off him into the water.

Correction: he does slide off him, but as soon as he feels how cold the bath is compared to the air and skin he was just enjoying, Prussia forces his tired limbs to pick himself up properly.

They rinse off half-awake and find the warm clothes they left out for themselves to wear. Lovino groans when he sees the dishes from their dinner and Prussia tells him to leave them for tomorrow. When they reach the bedroom it's Prussia's turn to groan when he remembers that they're nearly out of firewood, so they scurry around and find the last two logs in the house and bring them to the bedroom. The dogs get food and water while the logs catch in the bedroom's iron stove, and then everyone, nation and canine, climbs into the warm and waiting bed.

When Prussia steps on the gooey remains of a half-chewed bottle of lube when he gets up at two in the morning for a drink, he doesn't even see the problem. He just wipes the gunk off on the rug and crawls back into the circle of Lovino's warm and waiting arms.

* * *

**LOOK SEE DOUBLE UPDATE NO HURT SUNNY.**


	10. Goodbye Friends I am Gone

**To The Sky, If Today was Your Last Day, Wintersong, Si Volvieras a Mi.**

**Final chapter, yay!**

* * *

_**Triple Threat**_

Goodbye Friends I am Gone

Nations have a couple things to worry about that humans really don't.

One of those is immortality. Any nation who ever looked at their lover and thought "this will last forever" was kidding themselves and getting ready for a sad and disappointing future. Prussia knows for a fact that what he and Lovino have now is temporary- that one day it will fade, and one day it will fall apart.

All they can hope for in that sense are two simple things: that when the break comes it will be a clean one, and that they still have plenty of peaceful years ahead of them to enjoy this kind of love.

Because the other thing Nations have to deal with that most humans don't is distance. Prussia would physically make himself sick if he tried moving to Italy on a permanent basis: he is Prussia. Prussia belongs in Prussian, or in his case, former-Prussian territory, among the former-Prussian people.

Even if one day too soon Prussia finds himself making the agonizing shift from Nation to Human, Gilbert would still want to live out his days on his old stomping grounds. There's simply no alternative for people like them, there is no love that can compete with the love of their people.

It's not worth discussing any more than it deserves getting upset over: he knows Lovino feels exactly the same way he does because neither of them has ever met a Nation who _didn't_ know these things. Even if they could change these simple facts, they probably wouldn't want to.

But that's just what makes getaways like these so important. These chances to play at domesticity, to talk like two people and leave the politics a hundred miles away. The quiet fireside evenings where they can pick and choose from history, and pretend just for a night or two that this is their life, and that they'll live it together, die together, and be free.

"Hey."

"What?"

"I love you."

So Prussia feels safe enough on their last night here to say the words two nations try not to share very often. It makes Lovino stare at him from the passenger seat of the SUV as they drive through the persistent snowfall. The dogs are passed out from a day of frolicking near the local ski-slopes, and the nations are also tired from down-hill ski races and a few falls along the slalom tracks.

Lovino may hate snow, but he definitely skied Prussia off the mountain as soon as he made a tasteless crack to his mean lover about the Olympics.

By the time he brings the vehicle to a halt outside "home", Lovino still hasn't said anything, but he isn't flushed up or hurrying to undo his seatbelt and flee inside.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Let's take a walk."

It's Lovino's suggestion and Prussia agrees easily enough. They've already eaten out tonight and, again, the trio in the back are passed out under blankets.

As they trudge through the snow and listen to it muffle and woof with their steps, the snow-fall itself is starting to lighten up, giving away to a gentle breeze that, higher up above them, is starting to pull the clouds apart. The light of a flashlight in Lovino's hand is enough to walk by through the trees, the snow that remains still coming down silver and grey. The heavy flakes are drifting through the trees and crossing the beam of light at random, but it's peaceful: they won't get lost.

They don't go very far either, just down along a buried path between the trees and away from the cottage. At the bottom of the gentle slope is the clearing where they spent most of yesterday swinging axes and cleaving wooden blocks in half. It's safe to keep trudging into the open space where a fire-pit for the summer months is buried, and there's no fear of putting their foot down on a stray shard of wood after they combed through the snow to make sure they took back every scrap of kindling for the fire-boxes. They won't be able to burn through everything by tomorrow morning, but that's the point: they have to leave enough wood behind for whatever unfortunate duo might take it after them.

When Lovino decides to stop, he uses the snow to make the light from the torch that much brighter, propping the flashlight up on a small mound of ice and letting the beam strike a large snow-drift that reflects the glow back at them. He just takes a deep breath in the snow fall after that though, letting the last few flecks of falling snow settle in the quiet.

At least it isn't a bad silence, but it's here where Prussia would probably prefer laughter and voices. Lovino doesn't seem upset though, just quiet, so Prussia gives him the time to mull through whatever's in his head before his lover turns around to face him.

"Do you ever wish that you were human?" Prussia doesn't want to smile at the question, but his face does something like that before he gets the words together.

"I'd be lying if I said no, and so would you." They've all thought about it from time to time. They all have to.

"If I'd been born as a human in South Italy instead of the other way around…" The words Lovino chooses mean that very quickly, they can both feel themselves rising up to a tightrope suspended precariously between danger and sorrow, so Prussia has to trust him not to say something that's going to fling them both into a night of metaphysical despair. When he gives a little huff and lets one side of his mouth curve up in a smile, it's a good sign that he knows what he's doing. "First of all, which era?"

"Probably this one," Prussia offers, "unless you like wood-burning stoves more than you're letting on."

"Shut up…" it's a laugh disguised as a chuckle, but it doesn't distract Lovino for very long before he looks up at where the clouds are slowly pulling apart overhead: there's a waning moon out tonight, but they can barely see it. "It's more than that though. With my fucking attitude I don't think I ever would have left my village."

"You could have been born in Naples." Naples is Lovino's city, it's his heart next to Rome which is the brain of the combined Italian state.

"If I'd been born in Naples then I'd never have left that to see Rome. If I'd been born in Rome then I'd never see Naples, or Palermo, or Bari: I can't win." He's sort of talking himself into a circle now, so Prussia just distracts himself by brushing some of the snow off his own head, the white crunching under his feet as his weight shifts a little in the quiet. He lets Lovino stand there and muse, because there's honestly no reason to stop him. "I wouldn't have a North Italian for a stupid little brother, would I?"

"Is that rhetorical?" Prussia actually doesn't know, but it brings up a different kind of point as Lovino looks at him again instead of the moon peeking out from behind the clouds. Prussia lived and existed on his own for a very long time, so while he can definitely imagine living a life without West there beside him, it's hard to convince himself that that would be alright with him. There was always a little bit of emptiness, something France and Spain weren't qualified to fill, that the small lost child Prussia picked up in his arms one day completed inside of him: it was what made Germany more than his friend, and instead completed him as a brother.

Would a human life be worth giving up that bond?

"It would also mean having no Roman for a grandfather." He's distracted now, trying to remember what Germania looked or sounded like. The old state had been withered and old by the time the first Teutonic Knights had marched north looking for God and glory. "And no idiot Prussian for a lover."

Prussia hears his lover come closer through the snow, but he's still searching centuries of sounds and images looking for large calloused hands and a voice that shook the ground. He wants to remember the ancient power that fought and almost killed him, only to relent at just the right moment and say _'Very well, I accept you as one of mine.'_

But he can't grasp it, the memory is so old it crumbles when Prussia reaches for it, the echo gone and the smoke stains vanishing under the white blanket of snow. Lovino's kiss is as brief as the comforts from that ancient time, and a sort of thought betrays Prussia's changing place in the world when he tells himself: maybe it will be better to fade away than let himself live so long that he forgets this love the way he's lost so many others.

And then Lovino kisses him again, and it isn't controlling or mean-spirited. He isn't demanding the attention Prussia's slow to give him, his lips just whisper and brush over his, sickeningly patient and waiting for him to blink the memories from his eyes and close them so he can sink into the present. It's a slow process, but he's trying, and it's helped along by Romano's sincere voice:

"So no, Gilbert, that's bullshit." It's so rare for him to speak sincerely- not plainly, he does that all the time. But sincerely, without walls or shields to protect himself. He speaks quietly because he doesn't want to be mocked for what he feels, and that subtle breed of fear coaxes Prussia's arms up to gently circle around his lover, protective and kind. "I'd never want to be human, especially not if it meant I couldn't have you."

Centuries and cities and family, but as Prussia closes his eyes he feels his mind give up on those stressful thoughts and long-forgotten days. When South Italy says he loves him then Gilbert would much rather kiss his lover in the snowy moonlight and forget anything else in the world that could ruin this.

When they make it back up to the SUV and the chalet, the dogs are still asleep and Lovino heads inside first to make sure the fires are burning, or to rekindle them if necessary. Prussia deals with the sleepy trio, enduring Blackie's whines about having to flounce across the deep snow again to get to the warm house, Berlitz's beady-eyed stare that demands to know if Prussia really thinks he's going to get cold again, and Aster who doesn't bother looking up, because he's exhausted as fuck and just swats his tail on the floor of the SUV before rolling back over with a huff.

Prussia finds himself re-evaluating that deep and profound filial bond he has with Germany when he carries _all three _of his brother's stupid mutts into the house one at a time, enduring Lovino's snickers as the animals are fed and shown to a pile of warm blankets in front of the blazing fire. The set-up is actually a clever decoy, because as the dogs are lured into the warmth and coziness that the nations _obviously_ set up for themselves, Prussia is redirected with a few covert hand-gestures and a little bit of body language to sneak into the bedroom instead.

There's a bottle of German cherry wine waiting for him along with a set of chocolates, the fire crackling warmly in its iron stove. Just to keep from being too subtle, Lovino's also left a pair of condoms tented next to a fresh tube of what they've been missing all week.

"This is when you say you have a pounding headache, right?" Lovino's voice could easily make that a crass statement, but instead as he sneaks into the room and shuts the door to keep the animals from figuring things out, he's still got that calm and comfortable air about him.

"Feels like my skull's about to split right open," Prussia plays along, but he's too busy reading the label on the wine, pleased with how the cork is mostly out already- but not completely. They've had too many false starts to go opening the wine and then letting it go to waste, but he takes the initiative now to twist and tug the cork out with a lovely pop. "And I think the room's too hot."

"Check the thermostat." Lovino's got the wine glasses in his hands as he makes the crack, holding one out for Prussia to generously fill before doing the same to the other. They should let the wine breathe, but instead Prussia just sets the bottle down and takes his glass, the two of them sitting down on the bed before chiming the edges together and drinking. The wine is sweet, but a little bitter across the pallet, the flavour of the cherries needing a moment to come through completely.

Boots are kicked off and Prussia gets his lover to hold his wine for a moment so he can shrug off the sweater he was wearing under his ski-jacket. When he takes the glass back, he's also prompted to take a bite of the sweet dark chocolate treat Lovino offers up to his lips with cold fingertips. The chocolate and wine are delicious in the low light, and when Lovino steals the remaining half of the treat for himself, it's Prussia's turn to choose which one they'll share next.

"Dork."

"You have no imagination." Placing the candy between his own lips, Lovino laughs and tries to protect himself by hiding in his wine, but eventually comes out from behind the glass to nibble on the corner of the sweet. Prussia can feel the chocolate melting against his lips and tongue, so with a glare that makes Lovino laugh again and snort at him, his lover finally leans in and takes a… a…

Prussia expected him to bite it, instead his partner's cool lips and tongue try to clean away the chocolate stain around his mouth, and the light clink of Lovino's wine-glass touching the night-table is his only warning before two cold hands touch his face.

'_You're cold again!'_ is what Prussia would indignantly shriek right now if he couldn't feel Lovino liberating him of his own wine and putting it somewhere out of the way. Instead he has to choose between chocolate and caresses as Lovino's kiss begs behind the caramel chunk between them to come inside.

'_Okay, you can have it.'_ He surrenders the tiny treat, but in exchange he leans across the gap between them and wraps first his hands and then his arms around his lover's body, pushing them both until Lovino slowly sinks onto his back on the bed. They're synchronized so well that there isn't even that awkward moment of moving and shuffling around, Lovino just finds a way to move his hips so his legs both get up on the mattress while Prussia settles comfortably on top of him.

He expects the burning passion to kick in now, or sometime soon. With Lovino's hands moving slowly through his hair and his hips rocking gently under him, he waits for the switch in his brain to flick on in excitement and declare "WE GON FUCK" in technicolour brilliance over his conscious thoughts before the words are burnt away by longing and lust.

Prussia expects it, he waits for it.

"I love you…" But when he breaks the kiss to say the words, his hands hiding under Lovino's shoulders and back, the rush doesn't come. He's warm and he's happy and he can feel himself getting lost in the smell of spiced vines and black soil, he can see Lovino's half-lidded eyes looking up and watching him curiously, and he feels all the right things move through him when he drops his lips again to catch his lover in a kiss… but the fire doesn't come.

"Gil?" He wants to kiss him, not ravish him. He'd rather listen to the quiet way Lovino says his name than listen to him pant or cry out right now. When he feels Lovino slide one hand down and touch his face gently, it's a curious kind of caress that gives him the strength to change things.

Gilbert doesn't always top, in fact if he had to guess then he'd say it's either an even split or Lovino edges him out by a bit for the privilege. With another slow, tender kiss, it takes him just a few moments to brace himself before swinging his weight over and getting Lovino to agree to come along for the ride. With Prussia on his back now and Lovino's weight pressing down on him, at least that takes some of the pressure off.

But not if that funny look on Lovino's face means anything.

"Are you alright?" He's half sitting up on him after the roll, shoulders slouched and weight resting more on his stomach than his hips. Lovino's body is warm where it's straddling him, but his fingers are still cold as he brushes Prussia's hair back slowly.

" 'm fine, why?" Why is he cold? _Why_ is he so cold? Prussia catches Lovino's hand in his when he tries to make another pass over his hair, closing his fingers around those cold ones before kissing them.

"I thought you were dying for sex."

"As if you haven't been desperate since we got here." Prussia doesn't say it to be mean, and Lovino doesn't take it like that either. He watches his lover tilt his head a little bit, his temper snuffed out by the kisses and close company. There's no hostility here.

"Are we trying too hard?" Maybe that's what's wrong. Maybe they've just been so hung up on having sex that now that they can, it's not such a big deal? "Okay, simple question: do you want to fuck right now or not?" If Lovino does then Prussia will, but that's not the question.

"Do I want to fuck? No. A few days ago on the couch, yes, but not right now." He's not gonna say _'make love'_, at least not yet, he doesn't feel like he has to explain the distinction to his Romance lover.

"Good, because I don't either." Well shit, what was the whole fucking set-up for? "Do you want me to get off of you?"

"Fuck no, stay where you are." And to make that point clear, Prussia puts his hands on Romano's thighs to keep him from trying to climb down. It makes his lover crawl back over him too, which makes it easier for Prussia to put his arms around him. When Lovino shuffles over to reach for the chocolates, Prussia just picks himself up and moves across the bed so they're back within reach of their wine.

There's actually a lot of shuffling and moving around before they get settled. Their pants get discarded because hey, not now doesn't mean not later, the pillows get piled up so Prussia isn't flat on his back and can comfortably lay with his lover on top of him, and Lovino drags a blanket over them both before he goes back to amusing himself with Prussia's skin and hair by the firelight.

Kisses are nice, and so are caresses that eventually convince them both that the room is warm enough to lay in just their boxers and each other's arms. More wine is poured and they eventually break ground on the second layer of chocolates in the box, but it takes a long time and a lot of kisses.

"I love you."

And a lot of that too.

So after a week in the Alps, it's okay that their vacation didn't go exactly the way they planned. For them there's nothing wrong with saying good-bye at the airport when the flight for Berlin begins boarding twenty minutes before Lovino's plane even arrives on the tarmac.

"If you _ever_ bring dogs on holiday with us again-"

"I'll kick West's ass for you, I promise." And a very fast public kiss on the cheek to keep his lover from flustering up any more than he already has. "And next time bring a proper jacket."

"I hate this coat…" As he should, because when he woke up this morning South Italy's fate finally caught up with him: he's caught a cold. "I feel like shit and it's your fucking fault…"

"You showed up in three pairs of pants and a silk scarf, it's your own damn fault."

"No central heating or hot water: fuck you and your stupid ideas."

"I still love you, Lovino." One more kiss, this time on his clammy forehead where Lovino is sitting next to his luggage with puffy eyes and a sore red nose.

"And I still love you too." They've already confirmed dinner with each other at the conference next month, especially since Japan is the kind of host who can tell when two people want to be alone. "Now fuck off, Gilbert: if you sneeze on me in Tokyo I'll never make fucking potatoes again."

"I should bring cherries?"

"If you do I'll bring the chocolate: now fucking _go!_"

It takes a bit more than that to convince him to finally leave.

"I love you!"

But if Prussia doesn't catch a plane back to Berlin, how will they ever greet each other again in Japan?

"_FUCK OFF!_"

It's just that simple, really.

* * *

**It feels rushed at the end and, um, I'm sorry? But it's done at long last, and I'm so happy that I don't have to worry about this story anymore.**

**Please leave a review below, and thank you for reading!**


End file.
